


everything i do is bittersweet

by dryadfiona



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Carlos is Autistic, Cecil's Fashion Sense, Character Study, M/M, Nonbinary Cecil, Nonbinary Kevin, Other, Trans Carlos, happy birthday sydney you're gay as hell, it says graphic depictions of violence but it's not TOO bad and it's all in kevin's chapter, kevin's fashion sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 10:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5782069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dryadfiona/pseuds/dryadfiona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A study of the relationship between Cecil, Carlos, and Kevin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you could tell me secrets that i'll probably repeat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tinybirbfriend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinybirbfriend/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cecil.

The day that Cecil meets Carlos is really just a perfectly normal day. An exciting day, of course, what with all the news, but normal nonetheless. He gets up. He brushes his teeth. He reports his dreams to the Sheriff's Secret Police's hidden microphone. He makes breakfast.

Just, you know, a normal day.

As the Voice of Night Vale, Cecil has to wake up and get to work early, before the crack of dawn. The sky above him as he walks to his car is vast and looming, a deep, dark indigo dotted with stars that do little to light up the void, but he appreciates the effort nonetheless.

The drive to work is uneventful. His freckles cast an eerie green-ish light on his reflection, which looks almost ominous. As if a radio broadcaster with bioluminescent freckles, purple hair, and four eyes could be considered anything but average. He turns to avoid the library--probably unnecessary but it was always better to be safe than sorry--and pulls up to the radio station just as the sun was coming up.

He's a night owl, just like everyone in Night Vale, but even he has to admit the sunrise was something beautiful. The sun rises over the dunes of sand in the distance, filling the sky with shades of pink and lavender and light blue, but this early, you could still see the void and the stars to the west. Getting up early every single day did kind of suck, but sometimes it was worth it just for the view. The coffee Chad gave him helps, too.

Officially, his broadcast takes place in the evening. Also officially, he covers the news of the entire day in only about half an hour. Time travel was absolutely, strictly forbidden. However, what was forbidden to people like Cecil and the citizens of Night Vale was basically nothing to Station Management.

It wasn't  _technically_ time travel, either. It was just the fact that whenever Cecil started a broadcast, it was early morning, and whenever he ended it, it was late evening, and he didn't stop broadcasting in between that time, and the show was still only half an hour. But how could anyone expect a radio professional to do his job without a little time-bending?

_"The sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights appear in the sky while we all pretend to sleep. Welcome to Night Vale."_

He starts by talking about the dog park, and the definitely-not-angels. Only a minute or two into the broadcast (so a few hours into the day) he hears of a new man who came into town. Curious, he goes to see what the interloper looks like. He also never left his microphone. (It's best not to question these things.) And what he saw-- _who_ he saw--

It's true the man is beautiful. It's true that in his broadcast he says he fell in love instantly, which he did! His first thought may be a bit less  _eloquent_ than that, but he did. He listens to Carlos talk about science and Night Vale and his work while eating one of Old Woman Josie's corn muffins. He does not leave the broadcasting room. (It really is best to not question the nature of time.)

 

\--

 

Despite his offer, Carlos doesn't call him. Which, fine. Cecil's not going to be a creep about it. He was  _really_ hoping the other man would, but it's his choice. Sure, he makes sure Carlos knows he's still interested--discussing him on the radio, calling a mob against his barber, warning the populace about the various mundane and dangerous things Carlos warns him about--but nothing happens. 

At least, nothing happens in terms of his love life. Right now, something unrelated to his love life is certainly happening. There are doubles all over town. His has not yet appeared. He is not sure whether to be worried or thrilled or disappointed. There is just a confusing mix of the three, and really, that can't be healthy.

Apart from Dana murdering her double--or her double murdering her--nothing happens in the studio for most of the broadcast. He receives an email from Steve Carlsberg, but honestly who even  _cares_ about what that government basher has to say? He's about to go to the weather when he sees it.

_"Listeners, there is a black--almost indigo--vortex that has formed along my studio wall."_

It reminds him of the night sky, of the depths of the ocean. It is like a tear in reality, a black hole with a purely mental pull, rather than physical gravity.

_"Listeners, words fail me. It is so beautiful!"_

Cecil does not leave his broadcast studio during a broadcast. At least, he does not leave leave. He'll go and do things in town--how else would he get the real scoop about the news?--but he does not ever leave the microphone. He is the Voice. There is no other Voice. How could there be?

_"I can't leave you, as our show is not yet over, but...there must be something beyond this_ something _, Night Vale."_

He can't go. But, somehow, he knows that his double is on the other side. Perhaps he is already making his way here. At least, he  _thinks_ it's a he. Cecil personally doesn't care what pronouns people use for him but maybe his double has a preference and he really shouldn't assume. But this isn't the time to contemplate the concept of gender, or his lack thereof.

_"I must see what it is! I must go!"_

He hopes Carlos is not worried for him. Another smaller part of him hopes that he is because that means he cares, but mostly he just wants Carlos to not be worried. The man is already a ball of anxiety; he doesn't want to add to that.

_"I will not try to be long, listeners. I will not try to be long..."_

 

\--

 

He steps through the other side of the vortex. He's not sure what he expected to find--another him, the same but somehow different, someone to bond with over cat pictures and proper bloodstone safety and maybe even a certain scientist--but not--

_"Hello? Hello? Night Vale? What is this studio? What is this damnable studio?"_

There is blood everywhere, there is gore hanging on the walls and from the ceiling, and all of it is, somehow, even worse under the green light of the radio equipment. It's--it's--

_"Night Vale? I do not know if you can hear me. This is Cecil, and I do not know where I am. It is clearly a radio studio, but the walls are covered in blood, and instead of dials and buttons on the soundboard, there is just animal viscera, glistening under the green LED lights. I hope this microphone works. Am I in hell?"_

He can't breathe. Part of him knows that's  _bad_ and he's probably having a panic attack (who  _wouldn't_ ), but another part of him is thankful because he's just standing here frozen in horror and he can still smell, almost taste the coppery tang of blood.

_"Dana? Dana, can you hear me?"_

He'd told everyone that he did not condone killing your own double, but--is this where they're from? Is this where  _Cecil_ _'s_ double is from? How could he--how could  _anyone_ live like this? Work like this? What kind of a person--

_"Listeners, if you can hear the sound of my voice, please contact the Sheriff's Secret Police. There is so much blood, it is seeping into my shoes! There are--oh, masters of us all, no!--_ teeth _scattered across the floor. The window into the control booth is shattered and there is a swath of skin and a fistful of long clumping hair hanging from a sharp glass point! I do not know if this is even Night Vale."_

This can't be his home. He's the Voice, he knows his hometown, and this is--this is something else entirely. Maybe it  _is_ hell. Maybe it's some dimension even worse than that. Maybe it is Night Vale and he doesn't know anything about the place he's spent so many years reporting for.

_"I know that I can hear the sandstorm raging outside. There is a low buzz and deep hum that might be my own heart ready to tear itself from my chest in horror or grief--I cannot know which."_

He hopes that his double--if this is where his double works--is not here by choice. He hopes that the vortex that appeared in his studio is a coincidence, because those won't happen twice and he never wants to come here ever again--

He notices a photo. It is of someone who looks just like him, but--flipped? His hair is a bright, mildly obnoxious shade of yellow. His freckles (also bioluminescent, and here he thought he was unique) glow red, casting an campfire glow on his face. His fashion sense is, admittedly, not bad--a plain black suit with a tie and heels is perfectly professional--except, yup, those are  _teeth_ on the bottom of them. Because there weren't enough on the floor here, apparently. He too has glasses and four eyes, but--

_"There is a photo, a single photo of a man on the desk here. He is wearing a tie. He is not tall or short, not thin or fat. His hair and nose are like mine, but his eyes--his eyes are black as obsidian and his smile--"_

That is a snarl, a grimace; that's the face a person makes right after they tear someone's throat out with their teeth, or maybe right after their throat is torn out. The wounds on his face could be because of either. His eyes are...empty. There is no expression there, no reflection of light except a slight red tinge from his freckles. 

_"No! It is not a smile!"_

This is his double? Everyone else's double did try and murder them on site and he thought that fighting back was wrong, but now--how could that be anything but right? Noble, even? If this is hell, then his double is a demon; but if, in contrast, Night Vale is heaven, does that make him an angel? He  _does_ question his own existence often. But...this photo...

_"He must be wicked, this man!"_

His "smile" isn't happy or even excited, it's violent, like someone tried to smile and ripped at the edges of the skin to make the smile bigger. There's a knife in his hand. He doesn't know if the red gleam on it is from the lighting or--

_"Dear Night Vale, please pray in your bloodstone circle for me and pray, too, that no one should ever have to meet this_ vicious wretch  _of a man._ "

Why is he still talking? Wherever he's broadcasting, it isn't home. It might even be drawing more of these people to him, and he can't--he can't stay here. He wants to be in Night Vale, reporting the news and wishing Carlos would call and complaining about Steve Carlsberg, not in this pit of despair and violence he's trapped in.

_"I want to be home,  Night Vale! Oh, Cecil, you fool. The vortex...the vortex is still there. But, here, it is white."_

Everything here is bloody and terrible, but it--it's the break of dawn all over again, a soothing light with shades of pink mixed in. He hopes it will lead back to Night Vale. He hopes that when he returns home, his double will be back  _here_ and that will be the end of it.

_"Okay. Dear listeners, from this vile, vile place, I leave you to your prison, but before I go, because I am a radio professional and it is sitting here right on the blood-spattered desk, I give you the weather."_

 

\--

 

Inside the vortex, there is no color and there is every color. The walls of this place are monochrome and they're ultraviolet and they're the endless depths of the vortex in Night Vale and the soothing sunrise of the vortex from wherever he was.

 He's running. Before he had just walked, admiring the impossible mashup of colors. But now he has to get home as soon as possible--what if this closes and he's stuck here? Worse, what if he's stuck  _there_ _?_

Then he sees him.

His clothes, his  _face_ is spattered with blood, and it's (identical to his own except for the eyes, he thought maybe in person there was something else to separate them) curled up into a smile just like he saw in the photo. His knife is sheathed at his side.

His arms are extended as if to hug him, but after that  _hellscape_ he knows better than to trust him. So he takes what he learned in the Boy Scouts and chokes him. His double is surprised--he must have underestimated Cecil--and Cecil fully expects that he'll go for his knife. But...he doesn't.

Cecil knows, logically, that murder is wrong, and also illegal now. He also knows that his double works at a place with viscera on the broadcasting equipment and teeth on the floor. Really, it's the fact that his double isn't fighting back, isn't trying to kill him, maybe really  _was_ going for a hug, that convinces him to let the other man go.

"Hello there, friend!"

His voice is...normal. Pleasant, even. A voice more fitting for a radio broadcaster than his own. It would probably be nicer if he hadn't just choked him. He actually feels guilty. They make eye contact. It's less unsettling than he thought it would be.

He turns, and continues running.

 

\--

 

Carlos, brave, beautiful Carlos is in the city underneath lane five at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. He has said there is nothing to fear. And he trusts Carlos, trusts that Carlos will make it to the ceremony he has planned, and he is so, so proud.

 He is holding the trophy when one of the interns comes in and tells him what happened.

 " _Oh...a truly fearful thing has happened, listeners."_

He wasn't there. He thought--he thought it was safe. Carlos said there was nothing to fear and Carlos was--Carlos  _was._

_"Carlos, standing triumphantly in the toy-scaled city, was attacked by tiny people using projectiles and explosives. He fell back to the side of the small hole in the pin retrieval area of lane five, blood welled through his shirt, and here I am, stuck in my booth,_ useless _, only able to narrate and not help. He staggered, fell to his knees--so much blood! He collapsed completely."_

Why wasn't he there? Not just an entity, half-there but still in his booth, but  _there?_ Does he--did he care so little about Carlos that he left him to climb into an underground city without even being there? And everyone else who just stood and watched, what about them? What did they do to help? Did they do  _anything--_

"Curse this town,  _that saw Carlos die. Curse me. Curse it all!"_

He should--he should say something. Carlos deserves a--a goodbye worthy to the life he lived.

_"Let us take a moment to--"_

He prides himself on being professional, but he can't do this. He's crying, more than a little, and he is. He is still holding the trophy.

_"Let us...take this moment--"_

He can't stop imagining what it must have looked like. He could--he  _could_ go and see, but that would require actually seeing the body--

_"Ladies and gentlemen, let us mourn the pass--"_

No, this isn't--

_"Can't. I can't!"_

What can he say? What can he say that's worthy of Carlos, why didn't he say that when Carlos was  _here?_ Now he'll never know, because he's dead, and he's--he's not coming to the ceremony--

_"I am still holding this trophy! I--"_

He can't broadcast this. The fact Station Management hasn't fired him yet has to be out of sympathy, and considering that these are beings above emotion, that's saying something. He wishes he could be above emotion right now, too.

_"We go now to this puh--pre-recorded public service announcement."_

 

\--

 

He has his head in his hands, crying, when one of the interns runs in and happily tells him what happened next.

_"Ladies, gentlemen, how_ wonderful!  _Carlos is not dead at all! It seems the Apache Tracker ran in, crouching awkwardly through the pin retrieval area and shouting "Наконец, мое время пришло!"_

Reporting what happened to the Tracker should be emotional, really, and it is, but--compared to what he felt earlier, it's nothing. 

His phone beeps and breaks him out of philosophizing. 

_"Oh! Message on my phone...Carlos wants to see me. He says to meet him at the Arby's parking lot. Um...I am not sure what scientific exploration now needs the services of my radio audience, but I will dutifully go, dutifully meet him."_

This will be the second time he actually  _leaves._ The last time led to--well, best not to think about it. But now--he's happy. Hopeful.

_"And as I go, let us all go. Go now, to the weather."_

 

\--

 

This has been the most emotional day of Cecil's very long life. But this--

He imagined this moment so many times, but he never thought it would happen in the parking lot of an Arby's.

He wouldn't change any of it.

 

\--

 

Really, he has had enough of this.

_"Listeners? The quiet humming is not the deer, but a swirling black vortex just outside our studio door. In fact, the deer have backed away from the station. I have seen this vortex before, listeners. And I am afraid to approach it. But Hiram went to look inside."_

"Yeah, and I found this guy in the vortex."

_"Hello."_

His double is the Voice. Not the Voice of Night Vale, of course, but the Voice of...somewhere else. He had hoped to never see him again.

_"Who is this man? Not man. Who...is this_ creature?  _Why is he covered in blood? And where are his eyes?"_

His double beams, and it's a real smile. Still overly large and showing far too many bloodstained teeth, but a smile nonetheless.

"Hi! I'm Kevin!"

Kevin. That's such a... _normal_ name. He had kind of been expecting something horrifying and eldritch, what with all the blood and teeth. Speaking of teeth, his shoes  _still_ had teeth on the bottom of them. Was that fashion, where he came from? He feels like maybe it's just him. Kevin takes a step toward him.

_"You stay away!"_

"Hello, Kevin. That's Cecil. Wow, you guys look...almost just alike!"

Maybe it's because he's spending more than a few seconds of attempted murder with the man, but Kevin seems...just like a regular guy. Except for the eyes like the void and bloodstained teeth and knife at his side and being  _identical_ to him, of course.

_"Oh! Hello, Cecil! Nice to meet you! And yes, I completely see the resemblance! It's mostly in the eyes, I think. OK, I met Hiram, and now Cecil, who are you?"_

His eyes are  _nothing_ like Kevin's, what is the other man seeing? Is it a joke? He's so...nice. Cecil's about as far away from him as he can be without leaving the broadcast studio, but he's still far more at ease than he should be.

"I am the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home. Well, most homes. Not yours. I've never seen  _you_ before."

_"Faceless? You're not faceless! You have a beautiful face! A memorable face. I don't know if I've ever seen such deep hazel eyes, or proud lips, or archaic jaw."_

Kevin can...see the Faceless Old Woman? And she has a face? Cecil thought his eyes were just...not there.

"I do not have a face, Kevin. I have never had a face."

_"You_ do  _have a face! And it's unlike any other face in history."_

Kevin looks like he's just stating facts, like it's not a big deal that he can a) see the Faceless Old Woman and b) that she's not faceless. Cecil has no idea what's going on. He should really try and find out about that.

_"Why are you here? Explain to me what you are doing here."_

Kevin turns and faces him, like he's just now noticing any sign of tension. Shouldn't he have expected that once he saw Cecil? Who did, in fact, try to kill him? Isn't that kind of a big deal?

_"Oh. Sure."_

He looks awkward. Cecil almost feels guilty about the aggressiveness of his question, but also, the man has a knife and is covered in blood, so less so than he might be.

_"Well, I was sitting in my own radio studio in my own town, and I heard that…humming again. I saw a spiraling white vortex and rushed into it. It has been months since I have seen it, and once I met a man there who looked like me! With my eyes, and my smile. I think he was you, Cecil!"_

Cecil is about to say that of course it was him, just how many doubles do you think you have? Then he realizes that would also be admitting to attempted murder and while he could probably worm his way out of a conviction from the Sheriff's Secret Police, he doesn't want to disappoint Carlos, or piss off Kevin. 

_"I know that I am Kevin. I know I have been in this strange studio before, with its old-timey microphones and acoustic gray foam walls. A place like this is usually covered in clumps of hair and reddish-brown hand prints streaking down the only remaining unshattered window. But they do things differently here in…where_ is _this?"_

...what? In what world is that normal? Kevin must be...but he's so...positive! Cheerful! Nice, even!

"Night Vale."

_"Oooooh myyy! So this is Night Vale! Oh! How delightful!"_

He looks thrilled to be here, as excited about Night Vale as...well. As Cecil. It's kind of--

Ha, _no,_ that's not happening.

Kevin clears his throat. 

_"Hello out there, Night Vale listeners! This is Kevin from Desert Bluffs!"_

Oh. That...explains a lot. Even if the gore was even worse than what he'd expected from Desert Bluffs, but at least he has a reason to just  _hate_ Kevin and not think too much about that thing that was really only a brief, intrusive thought that clearly will never be important again.

_"You know, I was just telling my intern, Vanessa? I was telling Vanessa just today how much I have wanted to come here! I’m always telling her that, as a matter of fact. I just never get around to actually visiting. Work and family, and you get so busy it’s hard to find the time."_

He turns to Cecil as if expecting him to say something. He doesn't.

_"And so…here I am! I wish Vanessa were here! She would love Night Vale! You guys have such…eh…you know!"_

Was that an insult? Did he just  _insult_ Night Vale? Probably not. He's likely just overreacting.

_"We always talk about coming here and here I am, without her! Oh! I wish you could have met Vanessa! Always a joke to start the day. She had one about limestone this morning, hahahahahahaha! Haaa! I don’t remember it, but it was a hit."_

He's actually a pretty normal guy. Just a radio broadcaster, like him. Except for the blood. And the teeth shoes. And the knife. And...he's actually not a pretty normal guy. Why does he keep thinking that? Why is  _defending_ this maniac, even in his own head?  _Especially_ in his own head?

_"Always a laugh, always a smile, a big smile! Where she’d show me all these perfect teeth, and I would just imagine the rest of her perfect skull. Funny how the skull is so visible in your mouth. Weird. Who thinks of that stuff? I don’t know. Weird, right?"_

Clearly Kevin does. The problem is, so does Cecil. And here he was, hoping the only similarity was in their appearances.

"Maybe next time you could bring her."

_"Oh, gosh, I wish! But no."_

The cheerful smile on Kevin's face is gone. He's still smiling, but...sadly. A large, sad smile. Cecil isn't really sure how it works. He doesn't think Kevin has stopped smiling for a while. He's conveying all sorts of different emotions, but the smile remains throughout.

That had to hurt, though, didn't it? Why didn't he just stop?

"No?"

_"Oh, dear, I’m sorry, no. Vanessa died many years ago. We’re all still very upset about it. Very upset about what we saw. Some of us never came back to work again. Some of us never left our houses again. Most of us never woke up again."_

There's a pause. Kevin's eyes are still the same, but...he can see a flicker of emotion in them, as if something's trying to break out.

_"I don't like to talk about it much."_

Whatever it was, it's gone.

"I'm sorry."

_"Night Vale, I don’t know why I was brought here, but I am starting to see we are connected. And by more than just a two-lane highway. We are connected much more deeply, Night Vale! And if this is true, I imagine your town, too, has been seeing a rise in the deer population this evening. It is a blessed event, of course, as these deer have been so very helpful to all of us in Desert Bluffs, doing all our math problems, gaining us extra work hours by time-traveling us back and forth…so productive and adorable, those deer!"_

Does that mean Kevin isn't really the person he seems? Is there something under all that? Not in the superficial "jerk with a heart of gold" way, but in the sense that someone--or something--is making him do all these things?

_"But, of course, there is sometimes too much of a good thing."_

Maybe not. Maybe he is just violent and loyal to Strex and, in essence, nothing like Cecil.

_"StrexCorp, our parent company – oh! And I believe yours too, now, Cecil – is issuing a recall on all these time-traveling deer. They tried to implement the project slowly, but it got a little carried away. If you have lost loved ones, or are no longer in your original timeline or universe, then we apologize. Please contact StrexCorp attorney Luisa Reyes, as she is preparing a class-action lawsuit against StrexCorp. We’ve already budgeted for the remuneration for community harms, so don’t you worry about us! We’re fine!"_

If Strex did do something to Kevin, nothing could be left of the original person. Whatever makes someone... _this,_ that can't be reversed.

_"We’ve sent helicopters to dispatch the deer. If you have earplugs, you may want to put them in now, or simply turn up some loud music to drown out the machines and screams for the next hour or so."_

Can it?

_"I can hear the fading hum of the vortex that fortuitously connects our two radio studios, Night Vale."_

Why is he even wondering about this? Why does he care? What's done is done and the more pressing issue is freeing Night Vale from Strex. Kevin turns to him and their gazes meet. Again, it's not as terrible as he thought.

_"Cecil, I will see you again. I am certain."_

Cecil's sure, too. He's not sure how he feels about it, but this won't be the last time they see each other.

_"I can’t wait to tell Vanessa what a great town this was! Haha!"_

Vanessa, the dead intern, who he just spoke with and will again. Maybe death isn't as much of a big deal as it is here. Maybe there's more than one Vanessa. Maybe it doesn't matter.

_"I must go. It was nice to meet you two!"_

With that, he's gone.

"He said I have a face! I’ve never seen my face. What do I look like, Hiram? Am I beautiful?"

"You are beautiful when you do beautiful things. Do you do beautiful things?"

"I think that I do."

Cecil should be saying something. Apologizing to his listeners for interruption, maybe. He doesn't know what to say.

"Then you are beautiful! It is a simple calculation, you small defenseless sack of bones and meat!"

"Well, thank you, Hiram. You are beautiful, too."

He's stuck thinking about Kevin. Kevin, who is clearly incredibly loyal to Strex. Who has an intern who died in some horrifying way and who he spoke to this morning. Who wonders about weird and morbid things exactly like Cecil.

"Cecil, you are...distracted."

"Cecil? You alright there, buddy?"

_"I...can't...um..."_

He's confused. And, if he's being honest, it's about more than just Kevin's possible anti-Strex feelings.

"Cecil, it--it's going to be okay."

He turns to her--or where he thinks she is, anyway--and gives her a disbelieving look.

"Actually, that's a lie. In general, it's not going to be okay."

"That man with the missing eyes, and bloodstained skin and teeth like an abandoned cemetery? He was certainly terrifying, but he's gone now."

_"He was..."_

Terrifying, yes. But terror really isn't on his mind.

"Cecil, we all get frightened and freeze in the face of unbearable terror. I mean, only if we can see that face. Some faces are apparently there but unseeable."

_"I...you're right. Thank you both."_

This was just supposed to be a  _debate._

 

\--

 

_"I think he brings up a good point, Cecil!"_

_"You! How did you get in here?"_  

"Hey, thanks interloper! Whoa, cool eyes!"

Of course it was Steve. Who else would let a clearly dangerous  _maniac_ in his office?

_"Oh, thank you! I wish I could say the same."_

Apparently, insulting Steve was something they shared.

_"Cecil, listen, it’s hard to get work done when there’s all this_ fighting! _And it’s hard to smile when there’s no working! And if we aren’t smiling, then what value do we have?"_

There's more of that  _something_ in his eyes again, and it's so much worse. He's smiling, like always, but it's desperate, as if there's something he desperately wants to say and just--can't. Something's stopping him. He doesn't want to think about what.

_"Watch me smile!"_

Whatever the hell this is, it's horrifying. It's absolutely horrifying--there are far too many teeth. It looks like something about of a B-list horror movie that manages to scare you, not out of good writing or even cool cinematography, but out of the sheer creepiness of the monster.

_"You monster!"_

"That was really gross! Do it again!"

Cecil's going to tell him to shut up, but Kevin cuts him off.

_"Look at how much better we all feel from that! But right now, no one is being productive. There are angels--"_

_"Actually, there's not."_

"No, of course not! What?"

_"There's--no. Not--nope. Not a thing."_

Kevin looks exasperated, like  _of course_ there's angels, can't they see them?

_"And a desert army out there battling! For what? For Hooded Figures? For Forbidden Dog Parks? For a Glow Cloud?"_

_"ALL HAIL!"_

"ALL HAIL!"

_"For the constant terror of a Secret Police who can invade your home at any time, without so much as a letter from Human Resources?"_

He...has a good point. One Cecil has been thinking about ever since Strex invaded. What made these tyrannical overlords worse than the former tyrannical overlords? But it isn't the place of an interloper, especially one from  _Desert Bluffs,_ to say.

_"But they are_ our _Hooded Figures. And it is_ our _Glow Cloud! ALL HAIL!"_

"ALL HAIL!"

_"And this is_ our  _town! And it is_ terrible.  _But it is ours. And we...we are fighting for it!"_

Kevin's face shifts, and for the first time since Cecil has met him, he isn't smiling. He looks haunted, staring into space as if it holds the answer to some important question he's been searching for the answer to his whole life. He looks like he's remembering something better left forgotten, or forgetting something it's best not to know in the first place.

_"I used to feel that way about Desert Bluffs."_

If Kevin is the Voice, has his life been like Cecil's? Inside and outside of time? Time passing, but...not really. Time passing around them, making an exception for them whether they'd like it or not. Strex is new--at least, that's what the official website says--so they  _can't_ have been there Kevin's whole life. Does that mean...what was he like before?

_"So many secrets and conspiracies and darkness in our days. It all felt_ so  _important, so permanent!"_

Kevin still isn't smiling. He's getting more distressed as he talks, though, and it's clear on his face. He still isn't looking either at Cecil or at Steve, who just looks confused. But, more importantly, what he's describing sounds like Night Vale. They used to be sister cities, didn't they? Were they always so different?

_"But then we met the Smiling God! Oh, it was so wonderful! The sun stopped setting! Or--maybe there wasn’t a sun anymore. Maybe there was just that other…_ brighter _light. Who knows? I do know that I couldn’t stop smiling. None of us could! And our smiles seemed better, fuller, wider."_

Kevin smiles again, but besides that, his face doesn't change, making him look more like a cornered animal than a person. It's sad. And it makes Cecil even more furious at Strex. Is this what they planned to do to him? To everyone he cares about?

To Carlos?

_"Soon we had no need for government cover-ups, or secrets. Everything was transparent. Literally. You could see through everything and everyone. The bones, the blood, the scurrying insects inside every human body!"_

Now he's walking to the door. Cecil doesn't want to see him go. He wants to help him, somehow--maybe break whatever conditioning Strex has. The Sheriff's Secret Police have conditioned so many people, figuring out how to break it should be child's play for them.

_"So, let’s do this together, Cecil. Believe with me in a Smiling God! The Greater Night Vale_ and _Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area, a town with not one, but_ two _happy, helpful Voices."_

_"Listeners, Kevin has just opened up the studio door, only–-it is not the studio door. It is an oak door, and…and light, a blinding light is pouring in, and everything is becoming translucent!"_

The light burns. The light freezes. It is beautiful and it is terrible. Kevin is standing in the doorway, arms outstretched. He looks ecstatic, but he also looks like he's in so much pain he can barely stand.

_"Do you see, friends? The beautiful majesty of living as one under the unrelenting love of a Smiling God?"_

Is this what he's been living with this whole time? The light has only been on him for a few seconds, but a part of him is already--

The light is the sun coming up underground, and he's transfixed by the brightness. He takes a step towards it, because what could he do but give in to that light?

Why shouldn't he be productive? This rebellion is difficult, and it puts him at risk. It puts  _Carlos_ at risk. It puts everyone he's ever cared about,  _everything_ he's ever cared about at risk of getting destroyed in the crossfire.

It's the enormous, tortured smile on Kevin's face that pulls him out of it.

Steve throws Kevin out. The light is gone. And Cecil's left just...thinking.

 

\--

 

"Cecil, hey. Um, it's Carlos."

Cecil smiles, phone to his cheek, listening to his voicemail. Of  _course_ it's Carlos. It's the 21st century, who doesn't have caller ID? He's at home, wondering where Carlos is. Maybe he found something really important and scientific to check out before coming home so they can just eat dinner together and be thankful everything worked out 

"I–-I–-I hate that I got your voicemail, but listen, I figured it out."

Oh, this is a scientific discovery voicemail! Those are Cecil's favorites. It's cute to get regular updates of Carlos and his team of scientists trying to work out some problem, but the joy in Carlos' voice when he finally gets the answer is one of Cecil's favorite things in the universe. He doesn't sound particularly joyful, though."

"So, we can’t shut the oak doors unless everyone is back where they belong. And every moment those doors are open, more of that light gets through into Night Vale. I couldn’t figure out why we couldn’t just keep the doors closed for good, and it was _really frustrating_ to have a problem I couldn’t solve. And then I got sad, because I couldn’t solve it. But then I _did_ solve it, and I felt so happy! So those are some–-but not all–-of the emotions that I had."

Cecil smiles again at Carlos' explanation. Scientifically speaking, Carlos was the cutest boyfriend in the world.

"Here is what I found. Night Vale is a place that is difficult to leave, and difficult to enter, and connecting a place as weird as that with a place as weird as this was causing a lot of…strain on linear time and space. So…those native to Night Vale, Dana, John, the angry woman in the intern shirt, all had to return home, and the masked army all had to come back here, which they did. Just moments ago, the last of them came back through the door."

That's good to know. Maybe Carlos is busy  helping organize everything and help them figure out where to go. They did just get a new mayor, and she'll probably need some help fixing all...this. It isn't hard to believe that maybe she enlisted Carlos.

"It is so exciting when you make a scientific discovery like that! I was _very_ happy!"

Cecil smiles again, waiting for Carlos to tell him where he was now. He isn't sure why--the message is positive and Carlos hasn't said anything to worry him yet--but a vague sense of unease is creeping up on him.

"But then, as the last of the masked army members came through the door, it slammed shut and vanished. And I remembered that I am not from Night Vale."

The last time Cecil stopped breathing entirely, it was in what he now knows to be Desert Bluffs. That situation was terrible, but for very different reasons than why this one is, too.

"I remembered that, as far as the laws of the universe are concerned, it is not where I belong."

No. No, this couldn't be what happened. They  _won._ He and Carlos were supposed to be celebrating right now, happy to be alive, happy to be  _home._

"Cecil, I don’t even remember how I got to Night Vale in the first place. I mean, where _is_ Night Vale, even? But I promise I will find a way back. It’ll just take a couple of days, a week max."

Yes. Yes, this will be okay. Carlos is a scientist. A very brilliant and handsome scientist who Cecil hasn't spent enough time with lately and some part of him knows that it won't just be a week until he sees Carlos again.

"I’ll be fine. I’m a _scientist_."

Cecil's breathing again, but in quick, shallow breaths.

"Cecil? A scientist is usually fine."

He'll ask Dana about the desert otherworld later. It--it'll be alright, won't it? This can't be how the story goes. Cecil knows that life isn't fair, but  _fuck,_ he doesn't deserve this. Carlos doesn't deserve this!

"Maybe a few weeks, I don’t know."

A few weeks is far too long, but Cecil knows that Carlos is just being optimistic because he knows that Cecil's going to be so, so worried. And he is! His Carlos is trapped in another dimension!

"The upside is Dana was right. I have had 97% battery all day, and decent reception! So we’ll at least get to talk every night."

That is a huge relief, but the more bitter part of Cecil is thinking "small comfort". He does get to talk to Carlos, that's true, but...he wants to see him. Actually see him, after spending so much time not together and not saying what they needed to say. A scheduled phone conversation isn't like that.

"Best of luck at home. I love you."

"Love you," he says back to no one.

He moves the phone from his cheek and calls Carlos.

 

\--

 

"Carlos? Janice, did you say Carlos?"

"Duh! He's right over there, Uncle Cecil!"

They turn and see each other. Both of them are about to say something-- _should_ say something, like "I thought you weren't coming back?" or "I'm so happy to see you!" but they don't. They just hug and cherish the other for a few precious moments.

"Sorry I missed the opera. I had to let Kevin know I was returning home, and staying there."

Cecil jerks his head back. "Staying  _here?"_ He can't keep the hope out of his voice at that, because he has  _missed_ Carlos for the eternity he's been gone.

"This is your home. You belong here." Cecil is about to say that Carlos shouldn't have to stay anywhere he doesn't care about just for Cecil, especially since Night Vale is full of so much secrecy and horror, but Carlos cuts him off with a Look. "This is also  _my_ home. I belong here."

"Carlos, anywhere we’re together is home," Cecil says, and repeats a few times for good measure. "But Carlos, is Night Vale where we should live? Is Night Vale even worth living _in_?"

He doesn't want to pressure Carlos, and Night Vale really is a  _terrible_ place. Part of him doesn't want to leave it, and another part of him physically  _can't_ , but he would. For Carlos. Maybe for himself.

Carlos smiles at him and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Night Vale is just a name, Cecil. Night Vale is just the name for an area where everyone you love lives. Don't worry about the name. Worry about the  _everyone._ "

And he's right. Cecil doesn't care--too much--about any of what's been going on. What he cares about is Carlos, the man he loves. He looks over at Dana, and he can't meet her eyes. But that's okay. It will take time to work through it.

He's willing to wait.

 

\--

 

_"…started hopping up and down joyously about the figures he could see approaching from within the depths of…"_

_"Oh, no."_

He may have had some philosophical and sympathetic thoughts about Kevin, and a couple that  _really_ don't bear thinking about, but after how clearly enamored he was with  _his_ boyfriend, no. He doesn't get any sympathy.

_"Hello? Is there a new friend on the air with me? This is Kevin in Desert Bluffs."_

_"We know who you are, Kevin. And another thing, just because you have decided to name the other desert world that you are living in Desert Bluffs, doesn’t make it the town of Desert Bluffs! That’s not how names work! You couldn’t just start calling me Sessil and have that suddenly be my name."_

Honestly, who does this guy think he is--

_"Wow! You have so much passion! What a passionate individual you are! Sessil, is it?"_

_"Cecil."_

Alright, now he's just being a smartass.

_"Delightful. But to your, um, point, while where I live is definitely a desert, I don’t know what would make it_ other _than your world, and I didn’t call this town Desert Bluffs, someone much older and smarter than me, I’m sure, did that. And I’m glad they did, because you couldn’t ask for a better home town than the Bluffs."_  

Cecil scoffs.  _"What a stupid name! Night Vale is way better name by any measure. For instance, I like it more. By any measure."_

Now he's pretty sure that he is also just being a smartass, but he doesn't care enough to stop being one.

_"That’s disappointing news. But I’ve never heard of any place called “Night Vale.” I can’t imagine anyone disliking us here in Desert Bluffs."_

Oh, come  _on._

_"What do you mean, you’ve never heard of Night Vale? You and that evil corporation StrexCorp tried to take over Night Vale_ very _recently."_

_"StrexCorp? That faux friendly big business corporate monster? Don’t talk to me about them. StrexCorp is _the__ worst! _Strex has been buying up a few of the businesses here in Desert Bluffs, and I am_ not _happy about it. It makes me very unhappy to be unhappy. I’m much happier being happy."_

...wait, what? What's...going on? Strex isn't present in Desert Bluffs anymore, and when they were, they definitely owned more than a few businesses.

_"No. Strex is against everything I believe in. Community, radio, community radio, government intervention in the world, world government intervention, secret police, and, of course, adorable cats!"_

_"I_ love  _cats!"_

Cecil's not sure what Kevin's talking about in regard to hating Strex, though he definitely agrees with everything he just said, especially the cats part.

_"Who_ doesn’t _love cats? Heartless people, that’s who. Monsters without the capacity for love._ Without the capacity for love, _Cecil! That’s who doesn’t love cats."_

_"Wow! You’re way nicer than I remembered."_

He is, and it's a bit unsettling. He's like what he imagined his double to be before the sandstorm. Is...is it possible that...?

_"I want to represent my town well. We’re decent people here. Good people, sharing what we have: a watchful and oppressive government keeping us safe from ourselves and others, children playing in the schools, working hard in paramilitary clubs, and marching with crisp, clean uniforms in parades."_

_"Wait…your marching band has crisp, clean uniforms? But that hasn’t been true since the…_  

Oh. Maybe it is possible. Maybe he'll finally find out what Strex did to Kevin to make him what he is  _now,_ assuming that this Kevin is not the Kevin from now.

_"Is it possible that somehow I am getting a radio signal from Desert Bluffs all the way back from before the Incident?"_

_"I…have no idea what any of that meant, but it sounded terrifying."_

Huh. Cecil was right about the brainwashing thing, then. Probably.

_"So, you don’t like Strex?"_

_"Of course not! But don’t worry, we won’t let them get too powerful. Not here in the Bluffs."_

_Wow,_ that is a cringe-worthy nickname.

_"Uh, please stop calling it that."_

_"Sure. We’re all united on keeping StrexCorp just a small local business here in the Bluffs."_

_"It’s so_ strange _to hear this version of you! Uh, I– I don’t know how this stray signal ended up in this where and when, but…here it is! This “you” before everything that happens that makes you…whatever you become."_

He should warn him. But with everything he knows about time, and the warping of it, he also really,  _really_ shouldn't. But can he just stand idly by and let what happens...happen? No.

_"Wow! Sounds like I have some fun stuff to look forward to once I kick StrexCorp out of town. You know they’ve been trying to buy the radio station? Can you imagine how_ awful _that would be? They’d probably try to take me off the air, and replace me with someone else. Or, worse, try to change my personality completely. Oh! I would_ never _let that happen. I would_ never–-"

Suddenly, more static.

_"Kevin. Kevin! I don’t think he can hear me anymore."_

_"You don’t think_ who _can hear you anymore?"_

_"Oh, thank the lights in the sky, Kevin. You’re still there. I need to warn you about Strex."_

Fuck the unalterable nature of time, he's going to do this. It's the right thing to do.

_"Warn me? About Strex? Why would you ever need to warn me about an honest family business like Strex? Why, ever since they bought the radio station years ago, I’ve learned_ so much _about good business practices, and the value of hard work, and individual responsibility, and smiling, and destroying the weak, and eliminating the lazy, and smiling, and smiling, and…smiling."_

 " _Oh, no! Uh, I must be getting a radio signal from the much more recent past."_

This is not good. He hopes whatever's causing this gives him a chance to go back and talk to pre-Strex Kevin so he can prevent... _this_ from happening.

Kevin scoffs.  _"The warping of linear time is exactly why I don’t trust radio, Cecil. Especially community radio."_

This is definitely not what Kevin would have wanted to become. From what he heard, Kevin cared more about stopping Strex than Cecil did! It might have only been the fact that Night Vale had divine, definitely-not-angelic intervention that saved them. Or the army of masked warriors.

Wow, they were  _really_ lucky with that battle, weren't they?

_"Kevin! What did you become?"_

_"I’m just a happy-go-lucky guy! It’s like they say: “Work hard, play hard. Then work hard again, work hard more, work harder, keep working hard, have you been working hard enough? Work harder if you want to live! And then,_ and then, _play! Play very very very hard.”"_

This is definitely not pre-Strex Kevin. If anything, this is Kevin at the height of his brainwashing, before any of the moments Cecil had seen where he almost,  _almost_ broke out of it could ever be possible.

_"Do you remember nothing of the_ you _that was? The_ you _that believed in good, healthy things like family, and a caring totalitarian government?"_

_"I…oh! That’s a good question! What_ do _I remember?"_

He doesn't sound like he's breaking loose of any programming. He sounds more loyal to Strex than ever.

_"I remember being a real grumpster, just a grouch and a half about everything! Mister Frowny Face, I’d call myself now, if I were talking to myself then."_

Maybe they will end up talking to each other. Cecil doesn't know how this static thing works, after all.

_"But Strex bought out my radio station, and everything changed for the better. Ha-ha! Can you believe it, I actually tried to stop them from buying it! I tried very hard. I put my own body, this fragile thing, in between the Strex representatives and the entrance to the building, but they forced their way past me using ethically brutal methods that left me forever physically changed. What a silly old hen I was about all that!"_

...is that how Kevin got his wide, gaping smile?

_"Once Strex entered my life and showed me the power of the Smiling God, why, nothing was the same for me ever again! I felt so much happier. I did terrible things. I felt so much happier! I tore and bit and growled…I felt so incredibly happy! My skin rent, blood drops on the ceiling, someone’s throat hose in my hand! So deliriously happy!"_

Cecil can imagine it. Both things, actually. He can imagine the eyeless, smiling businessmen tearing at Kevin's face, ripping away chunks of flesh until he was  _smiling._ He can also see, vividly, Kevin violently killing people he once cared about. Who he cared about so, so much.

That's what they would have done to him, isn't it? Who would he have hurt? Could he have hurt Carlos?

_"You know what? Thank you, Cecil, for bringing back such good memories to me!"_

_"I am so, so glad that we drove StrexCorp out of Night Vale."_

He would have. He would have killed Carlos, his sister, his niece. He and Kevin would have been basically the same.

_"Oh, that’s not true, Cecil! We only just_ started _moving into Night Vale. Why, I believe we bought your radio station only a couple weeks ago?"_

_"Oh, that’s because you’re talking to me from my past. Uh, the radio signal got temporally misplaced, as sometimes happens…obviously. In the time you’re speaking from, we haven’t led the secret revolution against Strex yet."_

...maybe he shouldn't be telling this to utterly-loyal-to-Strex Kevin.

_"So you’re saying that there will be a secret revolution against Strex? Hang on, I’m jotting down a few things."_

He  _definitely_ shouldn't be telling this to this Kevin.

_"Uhh…um…n–-nope! Uh, doesn’t sound right at all! Uh, I think Strex has_ nothing _to be worried about, and should just be relaxed. And complacent."_

_"Cecil! Ha ha ha! Your jokes delight me! Just in case, though, I’m going to send a new supervisor over to Night Vale. Daniel is fresh off the line in one of our most efficient radio content manufacturers. You’ll love him. Or, not you_ now _,_ _you_ then _, I guess. Hah! Time is weird, isn’t it?"_

Especially today, apparently.

_"So weird."_

_"Right? Anyway, Daniel will keep a close eye, and if anything seems wrong, well…me and some StrexCorp executive or another will head right over to set things right."_

Well, that's a threat if he's ever heard one.

_"Well…um…"_

_"Oh, don’t sound down about yourself! We all make mistakes, Cecil. Except wonderfully productive StrexCorp, bursting at the seams at the power of our awesome Smiling God! They don’t make mistakes. And that is why we’re all grains of sand beneath their feet, the bended neck at their throne. Isn’t language fun?"_

He really shouldn't be airing this. He feels bad for Kevin, especially knowing what he was  _before,_ but he is not going to let rampant Strex-apologism air on this radio station.

_"Kevin? I already kicked you off my station once. I’m not just going to sit back while some errant radio waves from the past somehow put you right back on here. Uh, uh, maybe if I wiggle the wire_ this _way_ _…"_

_"Lauren! Lauren, I just heard some interesting ideas about the future on the--"_

There is static, and then nothing.

_"He seems to be gone."_

This is--well. He's not sure what this is.

_"Well, I have some feelings about how that conversation went, but…Carlos always tells me never to be down on myself about honest mistakes. Not even_ massively destructive _paradoxical mistakes. He’s…always saying that."_

Perhaps it is for the best that he couldn't warn earlier Kevin. After all, he is happy in his desert otherworld now, right?

_"I suppose, now that the technical difficulties are taken care of, I should give you an update on the screaming vortex at the Night Vale Mall. You won’t believe what…"_

He hears coughing.

_"Oh, no. Hello?"_

_"Cecil! Cecil, old friend! I’m here."_

He sounds weak. He sounds like whatever Strex did to him has only just happened, or is happening again.

_"You sound different. When is this radio signal coming from? Uh, when are you in your life?"_

_"I am very old. It has been many years since I last spoke to you. It’s great to hear your voice again. It’s great to hear_ any _voice again."_

This is very weird, and possibly dangerous and destructive, but the future? That's pretty amazing!

_"I’ll admit, this is a little exciting. How is the future?"_

_"Desolate."_

Not amazing, then.

_"Okay, not what I expected, if I’m honest."_

_"Oh, what StrexCorp and their Smiling God did to my wonderful little town. What they did to me. I’m not myself anymore. I’m a smile, and a twitch of the wrist. It has been years, Cecil. I’ve drifted away from myself. Sometimes I am one me, and then again I am the other. What they did to the sentient heat trapped temporarily in my body."_

_"Oh, Kevin."_

_"“Kevin.” Even my name is a strange figment. My tongue has forgotten how to form the word. And once, I was so good with words!"_

Every angry or malicious thought he's ever had towards Kevin dissipates immediately. Everything he'd thought about Kevin ireflecting on whether or not Kevin really was conflicted about what he did in Night Vale has been confirmed, in the worst way possible.

_"Now I am an ancient thing, withered away by what they did to me all those years ago. The power of the Smiling God is an endless flow. It ebbs, like the tides. But, like the tides, it returns."_

He should say something, offer some words of comfort. But what can he say? That he's sorry this happened to him? What can an "I'm sorry" do?

_"I think about what I could have been if I had never encountered Strex. I imagine an entire life without them. It makes me happy. I picture every detail, I try to live it in real time, but it is only a slight, sweet fiction, and dissolves like sugar into water."_

Even if it could help, he doesn't think he could get the words out. He's struck into silence, just like he was during the debate. For what he wants to say are very different reasons but are not.

_"Oh, Cecil! I wish you had known me before…before Strex. Before it all, when I was just a dedicated community radio host like you. I wish you had--"_

Again, more static.

_"But I_ did _know you, just now, Kevin! You sounded so excited about your town, about your community…you were so happy! You were_ you! _"_

No one responds. He should report the news right now, but he has to tell him that it's okay, or warn the past version of him so that it never happens in the first place.

_"Kevin? Kevin? Kevin!"_

Nothing. He has to talk to him again, though. He can't just stand idly by.

_"Listeners, I must find this Kevin again. But first, I must take you to the weather."_

 

\--

 

_"Cecil? Cecil?"_

Oh, thank the masters of us all.

_"Yes, Kevin? I'm–-I’m here."_

_"Oh, good, I got you back. Lost you there for a moment."_

He doesn't sound frail, but which past version of Kevin is it? Or is it another one entirely?

_"Anyway, as I was saying, Strex wants to buy the radio station, but I’ll never let them. I’ll fight them off, Cecil! I’ll defeat them!"_

_"Ah, it’s_ this _version of you."_

_"There is only me, Cecil. I’m the only_ me _there is! And we’re gearing up to push Strex out. Grandma Josephine, my oldest friend in town (both meanings of the word), Mayor Pablo Mitchell, Lawrence Levine out on the Edgertown Development, we have all had our differences in the past, sure, and we will have our differences again. We can’t always be happy. But we love each other. We are a community."_

It's like what Carlos said to him, after the opera--home isn't just the name.

_"And sure, that community has a beautiful name. I mean, can you think of a single more beautiful name than Desert Bluffs?"_

Ugh. Really?

_"Obviously, any name. Like,_ literally,  _any name."_

_"But it’s not about the beautiful, beautiful name. It’s about the people. A town is its people, and the good and the bad of them. And that is what we are going to fight for. That is what we are going to_ win _for."_

And now they're back to the inspirational things that Carlos said. But he should really stop getting sidetracked--

_"Hey, you’re from the future! That means you know how this turns out!"_

_"Well, uh, y–y–yes, I do."_

_"So? Do I win? Does everything go just as right as right could be?"_

He has to tell him, but...will it make a difference? Maybe if he doesn't tell him, he'll fight as hard as he can and still win. Maybe if he does, he'll give up and lose. Maybe trying to warn him will make things worse. He knows what Carlos says about messing with time...

_"...yes."_

And he can't do it.

_"You win, Kevin. Everything goes right. You and community radio prevail. And you are happier than ever. Desert Bluffs is a wonderful town, and you live happily in it."_

_"Oh! That’s such good news! Thanks for telling me. I can’t wait for the future to come! Though, I have no choice but to wait, I suppose. That’s how the future works, scientists keep insisting. Scientists are the worst, right?"_

...alright, he's not going to take this abuse of science--

_"Well, I’m sure I’ll talk to you again at some point in my life."_

He's not wrong.

_"Until next time, Cecil. Until next ti--"_

Static cuts him off.

_"Goodbye, Kevin. I wish…"_

He wishes a lot of things. He wishes Strex had never hurt Kevin. He wishes that whatever will happen to Kevin in the future can be prevented. He wishes that he did something to change it, even if it would have backfired.

_"Does it matter?"_

He's not sure if it does. But if it did--he did  _nothing._ He could have helped! He could have changed things!

_"Listeners, I…what do I say here? I–-I wish things could have gone differently, obviously. That is, obviously, what I wish. But they didn’t."_

He wishes...

_"What is the use of nostalgia for what didn’t happen when we have to live with what did? Do I wish the food court at the mall still existed? Sure. But it doesn’t._

He wishes that he and Kevin could have been friends.

_"Oh. Right. Sorry, uh, didn’t get a chance to update you. The whole food court and everyone in it is totally gone now."_

He wishes that he and Kevin could have been...

_"Anyway."_

What even  _was_ he to Cecil? What was Cecil to him? He called him "old friend."

_"A counterpart that never was? A friend that I never had? A life that was never lived. Could Night Vale and Desert Bluffs have been sister towns? Was there a moment when that possibility drifted like breath into frozen air until it wisped away into the cold truth of what happened?"_

This is a poor end to a broadcast.

_"I don’t know. I heard only what you heard. I know only what you know. Probably, you know more than me."_

He thinks he'll go talk to Kevin in the desert otherworld soon, to see what he remembers and try to warn him of what might happen. He's not making the same mistake again.

_"Stay tuned next for a feeling in your chest that will never quite sit right with you again."_

Maybe Carlos will come with him. The three of them have a lot they need to say to each other.

_"And good night, Night Vale. Good night."_


	2. i'm not trying to hurt you, i just love to speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> carlos.

The day that Carlos meets Cecil is not a normal day. It is, in fact, anything  _but_ a normal day.

Everything here, in Night Vale, is weird. He couldn't tell anyone how he got here if he wanted to, which he doesn't, because frankly, he discovered the place--right? he doesn't quite remember--and any scientific discoveries are going to be because of  _him_ and his team.

Also, he's pretty sure anyone who comes here is going to die.

Already he's lost one of his team members to an electrified fence, but it was that racist guy who still calls him Carlota and really, even if there's  _no_ reason a dog park should be so heavily guarded, if someone's gotta go, better that guy, right?

The logical part of him is saying that this place is dangerous, and that he should figure out where it is and a way to leave and then get the heck out of Dodge. It's also saying that when he's here, the random disasters--of which there's already been a few and he's only been here  _one day_ \--will likely leave him overstimulated way more than he's comfortable with.

The other part of him is saying that the two things he loves most in this world are science and weird stuff, and this town has an abundance of both, and that's  _amazing._ Emotions aren't easy for him, and usually he doesn't really know what he's feeling, but while he is scared, even if only in the sense that he knows he  _should_ be, excitement is clearly higher in the ratios of what he's feeling.

When he goes to the town hall to see if he can host a meeting to let the town know what he and his team are here for, he's expecting a polite no. What he's not expecting is a nod and a dismissive command to be there at noon.

So, there he is, at noon, talking to a crowd of people about science. They all seem enraptured, which is odd, but of the odd things here, this is his favorite. He loves-- _loves_ \--talking about science, and talking about science to people who actually want to listen! It is his special interest.

Of the crowd of interested people, though, the person in the front and center is clearly captivated. Enamored, even.

Carlos will not deny that they are cute. They have purple hair, brown skin, glowing green freckles (which deserves further study), four green eyes, and teal glasses. He wonders if their four eyes all see through the glasses or if only one pair of them need correction. 

However, their fashion sense is appalling. They're wearing a hot pink beanie with a puffball on top of it, a galaxy sweater with cats and pizzas all over it, leggings with a camouflage pattern but with a rainbow color scheme, knee-high socks that just say "MEAT", and lavender sneakers.

...that isn't just weird fashion for a weird town, either. They're the only one in the crowd dressed like that.

It's kind of endearing.

 

\--

 

After the show, the person came up to him and introduced himself as Cecil. He even told him his preferred pronouns! That's another thing he likes about this town--it's really,  _really_ tolerant. It seems like it takes absolutely no bigotry. It also seems like there's a Sheriff's Secret Police who monitor everything that happens here, but...at least no one's going to misgender him anytime soon.

 However, the more pressing issue--the man is clearly enamored.

Carlos is not good at relationships. There's the aforementioned bad at emotions thing, and the whole issue where he's never really had a good relationship before so he doesn't know  _how_ to be in one, and he doesn't even  _know_ this guy!

Cecil gives him his number and says that he's free to call whenever he feels like it.

He doesn't think he will.

 

\--

 

His double never appears.

 

\--

 

A year passes. So much happens in this year, but all of it is, in his opinion, overshadowed by what is happening. 

He is standing in the underground city, which is only ten feet below the ground, looking up at the citizens of Night Vale who gaze back at him. They don't fully trust him. They may never fully trust him. But that's okay.

"Behold," he says, and he may not be the Voice, but he hopes this has an effect either way, "this is  _not_ an enormous city miles below the earth. It is a very _small_ city about _ten feet_ below the earth, populated by tiny people, who have had to spend a year slowly climbing the _ten feet_ to our world!" He gestures at the knee-high spires around him, perhaps a bit more wildly than necessary, but he's  _excited._ "We have nothing to fear!" 

There is a silence for a moment as the citizens of Night Vale look back at him. They seem unconvinced. For a moment, Carlos wonders why Cecil isn't there--

And suddenly, the thought is overshadowed by blinding pain.

 _Something_ has just hit him in the side and it _hurts_ _\--_

and he staggers and more things are piercing his skin and burning and exploding and tearing and he falls to his knees and now they can reach his face and it's  _worse_ and he can feel wounds that will definitely form scars if he makes it out of this and is all of this red he's seeing his blood because he really shouldn't be losing that much how much can a person lose before there's no chance of saving them has he reached that point yet he should be able to  _remember_ how much it is is there enough blood getting to his brain and where is cecil and and he collapses completely

before he feels himself being picked up.

Whoever it is that saves him lays him down on cold linoleum, and he can feel himself breathing shallow breaths, but it's better than nothing. He hears someone hooting, which he's pretty sure means he's going to be okay.

They put some bandages on the worst of the wounds. He sits up, then stands up. Teddy Williams says that he should probably relax for awhile. Carlos says that there's something he needs to do first.

He pulls out his phone and texts Cecil. 

 

\--

 

Carlos is sitting on his car when Cecil gets there, too quickly. It's another one of those endearing things about him. 

"What is it? Wha-what danger are we in? What mystery needs to be explored?"

Cecil has been crying. In his left hand, he is holding a trophy. From the ceremony, Carlos thinks. He really had been planning to attend.

"Nothing. After everything that happened...I just wanted to see you."

"Oh?"

Cecil's voice is trembling. Carlos gestures to him, indicating that he should sit on Carlos' car with him, and he does. He doesn't know how to start this conversation. He doesn't know how to start most of the conversations he starts. He looks at the sunset. The sky here is beautiful, Carlos realizes.

"I used to think it was setting at the wrong time," he begins, and this is not how to start a conversation about any of what they need to talk about, but he's already started and it's too late to back out now, "but then I realized that time doesn't work in Night Vale, and that none of the clocks are real." Cecil looks confused but also like he's listening. "Sometimes things seem so strange, or malevolent, and then you find that, underneath, it was something else altogether."

Cecil talks about him on the radio a lot. Carlos never really found it creepy, but members of his team did. He did find Night Vale creepy, what with its tendencies towards dangerous radiation and supernatural forces that science hasn't yet explained, but--like this sunrise, like the person sitting beside him--it's beautiful.

"Something pure, and innocent."

"I know what you mean."

People say that often, and they don't always mean it. Carlos can tell that Cecil does, staring up at the lights in the sky just like he is, and he realizes that he really should have called the poor guy a lot earlier.

He puts his hand on Cecil's knee. Cecil leans his head on his shoulder.

They say nothing, and they understand.

 

\--

 

"Hi, you've reached the voicemail of Cecil Palmer. I'm off doing some important journalistic work. Or maybe just petting Khoshekh. But either way, leave me a message." 

"Cecil, hey. Um, it's Carlos."

This isn't something he should be doing over the phone.

"I-I-I hate that I got your voicemail, but listen, I figured it out."

He should just tell him, but talking about science has always been easier for him than talking about anything else.

"So, we can’t shut the oak doors unless everyone is back where they belong. And every moment those doors are open, more of that light gets through into Night Vale. I couldn’t figure out why we couldn’t just keep the doors closed for good, and it was _really frustrating_ to have a problem I couldn’t solve. And then I got sad, because I couldn’t solve it. But then I _did_ solve it, and I felt so happy! So those are some – but not all – of the emotions that I had."

He loves that with Cecil, he can just say what he was feeling, and Cecil won't judge him. Everyone else he's dated has said "show, not tell", but he doesn't know how. 

"Here is what I found. Night Vale is a place that is difficult to leave, and difficult to enter, and connecting a place as weird as that with a place as weird as this was causing a lot of…strain ion linear time and space. So…those native to Night Vale, Dana, John, the angry woman in the Intern shirt, all had to return home, and the masked army all had to come back here, which they did. Just moments ago, the last of them came back through the door."

Carlos isn't tearing up. He thought he was going to.

"It is so exciting when you make a scientific discovery like that! I was _very_ happy!"

When Cecil listens to this, he's not going to know why Carlos left this voicemail. What does he think happened to him?

"But then, as the last of the masked army members came through the door, it slammed shut and vanished. And I remembered that I am not from Night Vale."

The masked warriors around him glance at him sympathetically. He assumes it's sympathy. They're wearing masks, he can't see their faces.

"I remembered that, as far as the laws of the universe are concerned, it is not where I belong."

He's sure that Cecil will be upset. He wants to reassure him, but he's still  _bad_ at the whole dating thing. He loves it, and he loves  _Cecil,_ and Cecil loves him.

"Cecil, I don’t even remember how I got to Night Vale in the first place. I mean, where _is_ Night Vale, even? But I promise I will find a way back. It’ll just take a couple of days, a week max."

He's really not sure if that's true, and he's sure that Cecil can hear it in his voice.

"I’ll be fine. I’m a _scientist_."

For a second, he forgets he's not actually just talking with Cecil on the phone and waits anxiously for his response.

"Cecil? A scientist is usually fine."

Then he remembers.

"Maybe a few weeks, I don’t know."

He doesn't want to end this on a bad note, though.

"The upside is Dana was right. I have had 97% battery all day, and decent reception! So we’ll at least get to talk every night."

He pauses.

"Best of luck at home. I love you."

He hangs up. Carlos wishes that he were at home with Cecil. They  _won,_ according to the masked warriors. Statistically speaking, that was impossible. But Night Vale was known for breaking statistics, and this was no exception. They should be celebrating, not separated.

Also, he probably should have asked Dana what she did when that time of the month came because just the cramps are  _killing_ him.

 

\--

 

 _"Later in the show, we’ll be talking to Doug and Alisha, leaders of the army of masked giants who roam this desert, and who have been instrumental in building our new city. They’ve been so welcoming to us outsiders! Not _all_ outsiders, though. They are, after all, a violent and territorial army. But _some_ outsiders. People like me and like my friend Carlos. He’s a scientist. He’s a beautiful man who does beautiful things."_  

Carlos, already on the phone and listening in, will deny to his dying day that he knows about Kevin's massive crush on him. He knows, of course, because it's completely  _obvious_ and he may not be good at picking up on nuances in conversation but there's really nothing subtle about it.

_"I have Carlos on the phone with us right now with some breaking news. Carlos! Tell everyone about the huge project you’ve been working on this past year."_

 "Hi, Kevin! Thanks for having me on the show."

 He just doesn't want to risk their friendship. Also, he wants Kevin and Cecil to be friends, and if Carlos admits that he realizes the crush's existence, Cecil will hate Kevin as much as he hates Steve Carlsberg.

 "So, first off, Doug and Alisha are here in my kitchen. Alisha built a refrigerator from some cactus pads, twine, and three different kinds of birds, and _now_ they’re making a bunch of pasta salad for lunch this week! They’ll save some for you if you’d like."

 It's not like he reciprocates it or anything. Nope. That would be ridiculous.

  _"How delightful! I’m…totally disgusted by pasta salad. Can’t stand the taste or the smell. In fact, to look at it causes me to heave. But thank you, that’s so kind!"_

"...right."

He's just really good friends with Kevin. Friends where one of them-- _only_ one of them--has a crush on the other.

"So, this new experiment – and I have to tell you, I am _really_ excited about it. You know how our cell phones always work in this desert otherworld, even though there are no towers, and how they never seem to run out of battery?"

 _"Yes! I_ love  _taking these facts for granted!"_

...alright, there might be the  _slightest hint_ of something.

"Well, I’m on the verge of uncovering what’s causing that. Here in my laboratory, which Doug and Alisha and one of the other soldiers whose name is [guttaral throat noise] built for me, I've been hard at work pacing about in front of a row of conical flasks, beakers, and Y-tubes, _furiously_ writing Greek letters and Arabic numbers and I _think_ , later today, I will make an enormous breakthrough."

_"What did you find out?"_

Kevin's a lot more like Cecil than Cecil would admit. They're both really nice, generally annoyed with Steve Carlsberg, and interested in Carlos' work. Also, they both hate Strex and everything it stands for. Kevin has only told him bits and pieces of what happened when Strex was "re-educating" him, but it's...horrifying, to say the least.

"I can’t say yet. I’m just waiting on my computer to finish calculating the–-"

Doug and Alisha cut him off by freaking out by the window.

_"...everything okay?''_

They're both often worried about Carlos' welfare.

"I don’t know. Alisha and Doug look really agitated. They’re jumping up and down by the window. The other giant soldiers are running into formation outside. I need to see what’s wrong."

He hangs up.

 

\--

 

_"Ohh! We have Carlos back on the line again! Carlos?"_

"Doug and Alisha are gone. It turns out that the commotion was over another army marching along the horizon. Doug and Alisha ran _screaming_ around the house and through the kitchen, overturning my cutting board and grabbing their weapons. Alisha took my chef’s knife, and Doug made a makeshift slughorn out of one of my large funnels so that he could call their army to action."

_"Good for them, protecting our community!"_

Unfortunately, Kevin is not totally free from Strex's brainwashing. He is still much more violent than he should be, and that usually presents in the form of too much protectiveness over the dimension they live in.

"No, but…I– I– I was trying to explain that the other army was marching _perpendicular_ to us, they were not marching _towards_ us. This desert is filled with small armies, always marching in different directions. We– we can’t attack them all for no reason!"

He thinks he might have just gotten through to Kevin. He also might not have.

"And now my kitchen counter is demolished."

_"Oh, it'll grow back."_

Will it? He should really investigate that.

_"So? I’m so excited to learn more about your research into the strange properties of this region. I think you once called this desert otherworld “the most scientifically interesting community in the U.S.”"_

That protectiveness can also emerge in the form of what seems like trying to one-up Night Vale. It's almost like he's jealous. Actually, he might be.

"Well…no, my exact words were–-"

_"So…when do you expect the results? Sounds like whatever you come up with could possibly be a monumental shift in how we perceive thermodynamic laws."_

He's not  _wrong,_ but Carlos is getting stressed. He told Cecil pretty early on in their relationship about his anxiety, so he was careful never to trigger it, but Kevin doesn't know, so he can't really  _blame_ him, but still.

"Well, I’m at my lab right now, hunched over my computer, waiting for it to complete its final report, then comparing its results to my thousands of hand-written notes from the past year. I believe I can pinpoint the exact source of this desert’s energy. It shouldn’t be long. Please don’t rush me."

_"Great! Let us know soon, though!"_

Exasperated, Carlos hangs up.

 

\--

 

 _"Sounds like Carlos is back on the line now! Did you get the results from your--"_  

Carlos cuts him off. "Doug and Alisha are back."

_"Oh, good! So wonderful to have dear friends around to be a part of your brilliant achievement."_

The flattery is nice, even if it's unwarranted.

"Yeah, but they’re in no condition to celebrate the great strides of scientific study right now. Most of the army returned from fighting, but there are more than a dozen who did not. Alisha lost two fingers, and Doug is bleeding quite badly because of a compound fracture in his forearm. Everyone who returned is in treatable condition. I believe they’ll be fine. But they’re wounded, and need lots of rest." He turns to the army. "And no more fighting for a long time!" He talks back into the phone. "It’s a mess over here."

_"Good thing they have such a good and helpful friend in you."_

...honestly, he's right, they are. Kevin's such a great friend--

_"So, tell us about your study on the strange energy here in the desert."_

Aaaaand they're back to the anxiety thing.

"Ugh. I-I c–-I can’t yet. The army came in so quickly, dropping their weapons everywhere, along with some detached limbs that I don’t even think _belong_ to them, and all of my journals, which I had left out and open on my desk, have been rendered unusable. There are broken beakers and blood-soaked composition notebooks everywhere. I don’t even know where to begin cleaning up all of this blood!"

Kevin makes a noise that Carlos would really rather not address.

"I'm sorry, did you just say something?"

_"Nnnnnnnnnno? I…just…like your story. Carry on."_

Kevin is  _not_ making this definitely- _not_ -reciprocated crush thing any easier.

Carlos is about to but he has to stop Doug first. "Doug? Doug? Come back! Kevin, I have to go. Doug just constructed a makeshift splint out of rocks and snakes. He just grabbed his axe and ran out the back door."

What is  _with_ these warriors? Why are they so violent? He'd do a study, but he's not a psychologist. He's a scientist.

"Ugh. And there goes Alisha." Moving the phone from his face, he yells, "Stop going to war! You need rest!" Speaking directly into the phone, he says hurriedly, "Call you back, Kevin. They can’t go on like this."

 

\--

 

_"Oh! And speaking of sunshine, Carlos just arrived here, live in the studio with me! Carlos? Did you go out in this weather? You’re covered in dust, and those look like friction burns in the shape of lab goggles on your face. Are you okay? Did Doug and Alisha make it back?"_

 "Not yet. They..."

Cecil had told him about this. But he thought...he thought Kevin was past this part. 

"What is this all over your studio? Is that barbecue sauce?"

 _"Oh, that? That’s just blood! And some old bones, and loose teeth, and beaks and things. I finally decorated, thanks for noticing! And_ I _just notice you have a piece of paper in your hand! That must be your final report! Look at how we both notice things about each other! I love that!"_

 He doesn't even register any of this as abnormal? Also, he doesn't realize how strong he's coming on?

 "I…I, um…"

  _"Well, you sound sad. Which is great news, because it means you’ll be happy again eventually! It’s a tough day, what with all the weather and the wars and the blood. But your boyfriend will soon be moving from Night Vale to come live here with you!"_

He doesn't sound as bitter as Carlos thought he would. But the--the blood--

"Well, um…about that…"

He wasn't sure who he was going to give this letter to. But...he loves Cecil. And this--

 _"And?_ And? _You finally have the scientific results of your hard scientific work!"_

This is too much.

"I don’t. I don’t have results, Kevin! When the army marched out again I went back to trying to recover my notes. I had just gotten the lab desktops clean when Alisha’s large dog bounded through the lab and out the front door, sending every glass tube and jar crashing onto the floor. When I bent over to see the damage, I saw my computer there too, just on the tiles, snapped nearly in half, a tuft of white fur covering the keyboard, singed slightly by the smoke streaking out of the broken monitor."

He says this all in one breath, takes another, and adds, "I lost it all, Kevin. My entire year of study is gone."

Effort justification is the tendency to value things that you've spent more time on whether or not they're important. It's why people care so much about stupid phone games and TV show marathons and things that really don't matter in the end, but this did! This _did_ matter!

 _"What’s the paper, then? Did you at least learn_ some _of your results?"_

"This is nothing. It’s, um, just a letter I wrote to, uh…a friend."

 _"Oh? I_ love _letters! Letters are so fun to receive!"_

Carlos is pretty sure he's not gonna feel that way after reading this.

"Mmm, not this one. It’s a sad letter. A letter about regrets, about mistakes."

He wants to justify himeself, even before Kevin knows there's anything to justify.

"You know how sometimes you spend a lot of time with someone, and you think that the someone makes you happy, but then suddenly one day you realize…maybe you weren’t happy at all. Maybe both would be better off doing what you love in different places. Without each other. Maybe neither of you were as happy as either of you thought."

Kevin looks like he might understand, face locked in an odd expression. That could be sadness, he supposes. He doesn't know how to recognize it in Kevin yet, what with all the--well.

_"That is a sad-sounding letter. I don’t understand or like that at all."_

"I have spent the last year all wrong."

_"I believe in you, Carlos! Don’t let destruction, blood, and war hold you back! You’re a brilliant scientist!"_

He looks desperate now, like he doesn't want anything as much as he wants Carlos to stay. It's the facial expression Cecil had in the parking lot of Arby's, if Cecil had been panicked instead of emotionally drained. 

"I realize I need to just start everything over, rededicate myself. I need to do it right this time. No more distractions. I can’t spend another year like this one."

He takes a deep breath and prepares himself to tell Kevin that the letter's for him.

"So…it pains me to carry this letter, but…I wrote it to set my boundaries."

_"So you know, there’s no postal service here yet."_

He's not sure if Kevin's in denial because he can't handle this or if he just really doesn't get it. At times, Kevin is worse at reading emotions than he is.

"I know. Um, that’s why I’m hand-delivering it."

_"Oh. Remember, no one should ever be sad. Choose not to be sad, Carlos. In fact, choose to be happy! Perhaps your letter is the first step to choosing happiness, even while it makes someone else sad."_

Kevin's still smiling. It's not the crazed, huge grin that he had while he was under Strex's control, like he was at first, but a crooked smile that looks just like Cecil's. He's clearly trying to be reassuring.

"I understand. Listen, um, I should go. I’m headed to Night Vale one final time. I need to talk to Cecil about…well, about some changes. Thanks for everything, Kevin. You’ve been so kind to me in this difficult year."

_"Goodbye, Carlos!"_

And with that, he goes back home, leaving the letter behind. Is a letter better than a voicemail?

He doesn't know.

 

\--

 

"Duh! He's right over there, Uncle Cecil!"

Cecil turns to him, looking hopeful. Carlos has been looking at him since he got in. He looks hurt, but not too badly. They should say something, shouldn't they? What do you say in this situation? Cecil starts to say something, and stops. Carlos is about to say, I missed you so much and I am so, so glad to be home, but he stops.

Then they just give up on words and hug.

"Sorry I missed the opera. I had to let Kevin know I was returning home, and staying there."

Cecil jerks his head back, eyes wide. "Staying  _here?"_

"This is your home. You belong here." Cecil is about to say something, but Carlos gives him a Look and he stops. "This is also  _my_ home. I belong here."

"Carlos, anywhere we're together is home," and Carlos would kiss him if, like, almost  _everyone_ in Night Vale wasn't here. But they are. Cecil repeats himself a few times, as if trying to reassure both Carlos and himself. "But Carlos, is Night Vale where we should live? Is Night Vale even worth living _in_?"

Carlos takes a deep breath. It seems like Cecil is only just now going through the crisis he went through when he first came to Night Vale. The question of Is this place worth it? Do I care enough about my reason to stay?

He smiles at Cecil, puts a hand on his shoulder, and says, "Night Vale is just a name, Cecil. Night Vale is just the name for an area where everyone you love lives. Don't worry about the name. Worry about the  _everyone._ "

Cecil smiles back, the crooked smile he's grown used to seeing on Kevin, and  _wow_ is that confusing. But...he made his choice. Kevin's probably read the letter by now, might be calling him, and he's just going to...ignore it for a bit. That might not be the "right" thing to do, but...he missed Night Vale. He missed  _Cecil._

He will answer, eventually. But not today. For now, he's just going to enjoy being home with everyone he cares about.

Or, at least, almost everyone.


	3. it feels like we're pulling teeth, so bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kevin.
> 
> (if violence or gore squicks you out, this chapter is the reason i have the warning. also if you're only here for the cecilos maaaaybe don't read this chapter)

_"…started hopping up and down joyously about the figures he could see approaching from within the depths of…"_

_"Oh, no."_

This is new. Generally speaking, the only Voice on the radio is his own. For that matter, the only  _voice_ on the radio is his own, too. 

  _"Hello?  Is there a new friend on the air with me? This is Kevin in Desert Bluffs."_

Whoever he's talking to has a  _nice_ voice. It's soothing. Something you could fall asleep listening to. But really, he shouldn't be thinking about this on the air.

_"We know who you are, Kevin. And another thing, just because you have decided to name the other desert world that you are living in Desert Bluffs, doesn’t make it the town of Desert Bluffs! That’s not how names work! You couldn’t just start calling me Sessil and have that suddenly be my name."_

Well, that's a little rude. And confusing. But, you know, he's gotta take the opportunities life grants him, so he decides to just go for it!

_"Wow! You have so much passion! What a passionate individual you are! Sessil, is it?"_

He's aware he's being a bit of a smartass, but, y'know, some guys like that, don't they?

_"Cecil."_

And he thought this guy's voice was nice when he just annoyed, though for what reason he still doesn't know. When he's angry, it's actually really, really hot.

 _"Delightful. But to your, um, point, while where I live is definitely a desert, I don’t know what would make it_ other _than your world, and I didn’t call this town Desert Bluffs, someone much older and smarter than me, I’m sure, did that. And I’m glad they did, because you couldn’t ask for a better home town than the Bluffs."_

Perhaps Cecil is mistaking him for another Kevin. Another Kevin who lives in Desert Bluffs. It is unlikely, true, that just by hearing his voice an unknown man would mistake him for another Kevin here, but he hasn't done anything, so clearly there's  _some_ misunderstanding.

_"What a stupid name! Night Vale is way better name by any measure. For instance, I like it more. By any measure."_

Kevin can clearly count himself among the guys who like smartasses. At least, when it's Cecil. But insulting the Bluffs? That's a bit much.

_"That’s disappointing news. But I’ve never heard of any place called “Night Vale.” I can’t imagine anyone disliking us here in Desert Bluffs."_

_"What do you mean, you’ve never heard of Night Vale? You and that evil corporation StrexCorp tried to take over Night Vale_ very __recently."__

Oh, so  _that's_ where the misunderstanding comes in. He must have heard one of Kevin's early Strex-positive broadcasts from before he knew what sort of a company they  _really_ were and mistaken him for an employee of the damned place.

 _"StrexCorp? That faux friendly big business corporate monster? Don’t talk to me about them. StrexCorp is the_ worst! _ _Strex has been buying up a few of the businesses here in Desert Bluffs, and I am__ not _ _happy about it. It makes me very unhappy to be unhappy. I’m much happier being happy."__

He takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He doesn't like to get angry at things, but Strex--he'll make an exception for them.

_"No. Strex is against everything I believe in. Community, radio, community radio, government intervention in the world, world government intervention, secret police, and, of course, adorable cats!"_

_"I_ love  _cats!"_

That just isn't fair. A guy with a great voice who likes cats? He might have to look up this Night Vale and see who Cecil is. Wouldn't it be cool if he was a radio broadcaster, just like him?

 _"Who_ doesn’t __love cats? Heartless people, that’s who. Monsters without the capacity for love.__ Without the capacity for love _, _Cecil! That’s who doesn’t love cats."__  

He can practically see Cecil nodding. Of course, he doesn't know what Cecil looks like, so he just imagines a vague entity nodding its head. 

_"Wow! You're way nicer than I remembered."_

Kevin's not sure where Cecil remembers him from. Is it a pickup line? Like the "do I know you from somewhere?" line but as an extended metaphor?

 _"I want to represent my town well. We’re decent people here. Good people, sharing what we have: a watchful and oppressive government keeping us safe from ourselves and others, children playing in the schools, working hard in paramilitary clubs, and marching with crisp, clean uniforms in parades."_  

Kevin takes pride in his work, but more importantly, he takes pride in his town. He'd die for this place. Almost has a few times. But almost anyone would almost die if they were an immortal Voice who witnessed almost the entire town's history.

_"Wait…your marching band has crisp, clean uniforms? But that hasn’t been true since the…"_

Cecil pauses, and Kevin finds himself worried. There isn't another Desert Bluffs Cecil's confusing his lovely town with, is there?

_"Is it possible that somehow I am getting a radio signal from Desert Bluffs all the way back from before the Incident?"_

_"I…have no idea what any of that meant, but it sounded terrifying."_

An Incident? He won't allow anything to happen to his beloved Bluffs. This is his town--he's witnessed everything it's been through over the course of countless years, and he won't let anything--not an Incident, not StrexCorp--harm it.

_"So, you don't like Strex?"_

_"Of course not! But don’t worry, we won’t let them get too powerful. Not here in the Bluffs."_

_"Uh, please stop calling it that."_

Kevin frowns at the microphone even though he knows--or, at least, he's pretty sure--that Cecil can't see him.

_"Sure. We’re all united on keeping StrexCorp just a small local business here in the Bluffs."_

_"It’s so_ strange __to hear this version of you! Uh, I– I don’t know how this stray signal ended up in this where and when, but…here it is! This “you” before everything that happens that makes you…whatever you become."__

Whatever he becomes? Hopefully something cool. He could  _easily_ say a cheesy pick-up line about becoming the man of Cecil's dreams right now. It's only through sheer willpower that he remains professional.

 _"Wow! Sounds like I have some fun stuff to look forward to once I kick StrexCorp out of town. You know they’ve been trying to buy the radio station? Can you imagine how awful _that would be? They’d probably try to take me off the air, and replace me with someone else. Or, worse, try to change my personality completely. Oh! I would_ never _let that happen. I would__ never–- _"_

Suddenly, Cecil is cut off by static.

_"Cecil? Cecil?"_

_"Yes, Kevin? I'm--I'm here."_

He sounds shaken. That's a good sign, right? He was only gone for a moment, and if it affected him  _that much_ from just the momentary panic that he lost contact with Kevin--he's gotta be invested in this. 

_"Oh, good, I got you back. Lost you there for a moment."_

He's got to be reassuring. A rock. People like that!

_"Anyway, as I was saying, Strex wants to buy the radio station, but I’ll never let them. I’ll fight them off, Cecil! I’ll defeat them!"_

_"Ah, it’s_ this _ _version of you."__

He sounds relieved, even happy about it.

 _"There is only me, Cecil. I’m the only_ me _ _there is! And we’re gearing up to push Strex out. Grandma Josephine, my oldest friend in town (both meanings of the word), Mayor Pablo Mitchell, Lawrence Levine out on the Edgertown Development, we have all had our differences in the past, sure, and we will have our differences again. We can’t always be happy. But we love each other. We are a community."__

He knows he's preaching to the choir a bit, but he feels so  _passionately_ about this! And Cecil hates Strex too, and that's  _great_ because there was this one guy he thought was cute but he turned out to be a really loyal Strex employee, which, yikes. Bit of a turn-off.

_"And sure, that community has a beautiful name. I mean, can you think of a single more beautiful name than Desert Bluffs?"_

He's being a smartass again, but he  _does_ love the name Desert Bluffs. And he's having too much fun riling Cecil up.

 _"Obviously, any name. Like,_ literally,  _any name."_

 _Way_ too much fun.

 _"_ _But it’s not about the beautiful, beautiful name. It’s about the people. A town is its people, and the good and the bad of them. And that is what we are going to fight for. That is what we are going to_ win _for."_

He's about to make another, less subtle move when he realizes something.

_"Hey, you’re from the future! That means you know how this turns out!""_

_"Well, uh, y–y–yes, I do."_

He sounds taken aback, as if he didn't expect Kevin to call him out on it. But it's exciting! Amazing, even, that he can talk to someone from the future! Especially since he needs to know what happens next!

_"So? Do I win? Does everything go just as right as right could be?"_

There is a long pause, and Kevin begins to worry that the answer is no.

_"...yes."_

Oh, thank God.

_"You win, Kevin. Everything goes right. You and community radio prevail. And you are happier than ever. Desert Bluffs is a wonderful town, and you live happily in it."_

He sounds sad, which Kevin will not stand for! No one should be sad.  _Especially_ no one with such a nice voice as Cecil.

_"Oh! That’s such good news! Thanks for telling me. I can’t wait for the future to come! Though, I have no choice but to wait, I suppose. That’s how the future works, scientists keep insisting. Scientists are the worst, right?"_

Cecil takes a deep breath and Kevin really, really hopes he isn't a scientist, because wouldn't that be a  _great_ way to ruin his chances with someone he hasn't even met yet? Ugh, he's gotta get out of this before he ends up putting his foot in his mouth again.

_"Well, I’m sure I’ll talk to you again at some point in my life."_

Also, the broadcast is about to end.

_"Until next time, Cecil. Until next time."_

And with that, he turns off his microphone. What a nice show!

It's good to know that he has nothing to worry about on the whole Strex front.

 

\--

 

Vanessa can't hold on much longer, and Kevin's just lucky that he's found somewhere to hide.

Strex didn't--didn't approve of his rebellious broadcasts. They've bought most of the town by this point, and--if Kevin didn't know he was going to win this, he'd have given up by now. Surrendered.

When Vanessa does die, it's terrible. One of the eyeless men in suits shoves his hand  _through_ her chest, grabbing her heart and yanking his hand back out. She drops the weapon she was holding, about to fall over, but--

He's holding her up, and her heart is glowing with a light that--

Oh, God, that light--

And that's when Vanessa starts screaming.

She doesn't stop to take a breath, and it doesn't stop at all. The worker lets go of her heart, which drops to the ground, just gore again--but she's still standing. She's still screaming.

Kevin leaves his hiding spot and runs for the door to the radio station. He won't let Vanessa's sacrifice be in vain.

What if Cecil lied?

He remembers the man's hesitation in answering his question, and--well. There's a time and a place to think about this, and he  _refuses_ to surrender to something he hates so much.

He stands in the doorway and he stares down the eyeless workers. The gesture is likely lost on them. Throughout all of this, they haven't stopped--smiling. If you can call it a smile. It's just skin peeled back, partially by muscle but mostly through rips and tears in their flesh, showing far more of their skull and muscles than should ever be shown on someone who's alive.

Were these ever people?

That's the last thought he has before one of them manages to take him down, dislocating his right shoulder so that he can't grab at his knife--one of the workers dropped it earlier, and he grabbed it to try and defend himself even though he hadn't a clue what he was doing--and he screams. With that moment of distraction, one of the others breaks one of his kneecaps, and he collapses.

What happens next he can hardly bear to think of, even later.

He remembers that the eyes went first. They didn't do it in one big go, either. They peeled it away layer by layer, like there was something they were trying to get at and they didn't want to damage it.

There was no anesthesia, no hospital room they took him to--one of the workers just pinned him down and methodically began peeling away at his eyes with his knife. The others left to resume fighting, though one returned. His vision is too full of blood to see if he's holding anything, but--

He can hear beating.

When they're finally done with one of his eyes, he's ready to give in. He doesn't care. He'll do anything he wants. He tells them this, screams it, but they don't react. The workers haven't stopped smiling.

It feels like the second eye takes longer, but the eyes were nothing compared to what's next.

The removing of the eyes was painful, but it was methodical. It was clean. There was a clear goal in mind and a wish not to damage anything not necessary to that goal. To make him smile, they clearly have no such concerns.

They tear at his skin like it's wrapping paper on Christmas and they know the only thing they asked for is inside. The knife cuts are jagged but not  _quick,_ and he'd scream if he wasn't too busy trying to spit all the blood out of his mouth.

If he survives this, which he doubts will happen, he's never going to get the taste out.

When the ordeal is finally over, he's lying, bleeding out on the floor of his beloved radio station. He thinks, they are never going to get the blood out of the carpet. Funny how the mundane keeps popping into his head during this.

The beating gets louder and louder and he can't see but the light is  _blinding--_

and suddenly he can see.

It's not the same as before. For one thing, everything's red, though that might just be because of all the blood. All the teeth. All the bodies. He's also viewing it...differently than he might have before.

He reaches for his knife and turns to his fellow employees. He would smile at them, but he already is. He always is, now.

"Where do we start?"

 

\--

 

Not everyone can be hired, of course. A company has to lay off some employees, even before they have a job. It's _his_ job to give them their severance packages. 

He used to be friends with these people--he thinks that he should feel more upset about killing them. But he doesn't! The only thing he's really aware of feeling is surprise that he's doing so well. He has almost no combat experience, except for an incident at the library back in college.

His reverie is cut off by someone he used to know--one of his neighbors!--coming at him with a baseball bat before stopping and staring at him in abject horror.

"Kevin? Is that you?"

For a second, he hesitates. I don't want to hurt these people, he thinks--

And in his head, all he can hear is Vanessa screaming, all he can see is that blinding, beautiful light.

He snarls and knocks the baseball bat out of his neighbor's hand. He stabs at their arm, tearing the flesh. When they shove their fist in his face, trying  _desperately_ to break free, he bites their hand, drawing blood.

That's a taste he's never gonna get sick of!

A few moments later, he's crushing their larynx with his bare hands, and he is happy.

So, so happy.

 

\--

 

Intern Vanessa is absolutely indispensable to the radio station. Wherever she goes, she smiles and tells cheerful jokes. The light in her chest pulsates as if it's beating like a heart, which is absurd. Everyone knows Vanessa doesn't have a heart anymore, not after--

 _"And with that, listeners, let's go to--oh my. Look at that."_  

He's so used to the blinding light of the sun, of the light Vanessa carries with her everywhere she goes, that seeing this is...striking.

_"Listeners, there's a white, almost pink, vortex that has formed along my studio wall."_

It's like a sunrise, a  _real_ sunrise, something he hasn't seen since--

Vanessa's screams echo in his head.

_"Listeners, words fail me. It is so beautiful!"_

He hasn't had any anti-Strex thoughts in so long. This vortex has snapped him back to a place he thought he'd never return to.

 _"I can’t leave you, as our show is not yet over, but…there must be something beyond this_ something _, Desert Bluffs. I must see what it is! I must go! I will try not to be long, listeners. I will try not to be long…"_

 

\--

 

 _"Hello? Hello, Desert Bluffs? What is this studio?"_  

It looks like his studio looked Before. He's thinking about Before an awful lot today.

 _"Hey there, Desert Bluffs! I don’t know if you can hear me. Kevin here. I don’t’ know where I am. It’s a radio studio, but the walls are darker. The equipment looks much older. Certainly much_ drier _ _than it should be. The microphone was made…when? Have I gone back in time?"__

It's not quite the same as his old recording studio, though. There's no inspirational poster with a cat on it, for one.

_"Vanessa! Are you in the booth?"_

He's certain she's not. He never thinks about Before when Vanessa's around. He never thinks about anything other than utter loyalty to Strex when Vanessa's around.

_"Listeners, if you can hear me, I am in a strange place. I do not know if I am in Desert Bluffs, or if anyone can hear me."_

Perhaps he is not speaking to  _his_ listeners. Maybe there is somewhere else, somewhere... _better._ Is he free?"

_"The sandstorm rages outside. The vortex is still there, only it’s black – almost a deep blue. There’s a low hum. I do not know if this is the portal, or the storm, or my own body."_

The vortex has depths that Kevin could drown in. He thinks that maybe he will. He thinks that maybe he really is free. Strex's influence over him is already fading, and he doesn't want to ever go back. He notices a photo.

 _"There is a photo here on the desk. It is a man. He is wearing a tie. He is not tall or short, not thin or fat. He has eyes like mine and a_ nose _ _like mine, and__ hair  _ _like mine, but I do not think he is me."__

His first thought is that it is him from Before. But--no. His eyes are green, and Kevin remembers when they finally pulled the iris out of his first eye the red reflected on the blood, the same light his freckles still give off now. The other man has freckles, too. He's wearing a plain black suit, which looks  _really_ good on him, but he's wearing it with metallic silver boots with blue splotches. It looks terrible. Kevin loves it.

_"Maybe it is the smile."_

The smile is utterly, achingly familiar. It's a crooked smile, one that he always used to see in his reflection. His smile now is...is it a smile? A terrible one, to be sure.

_"Is that a smile? I can't say."_

He realizes that, whoever's listening, they think is questioning the man in the photo's smile. He isn't, of course he isn't. That's the kinda cute smile of someone who has their life together. Or, at least, who has their life in their own control and not under the capitalistic tyranny of Strex.

_"I do hope he is safe, whoever--wherever he is. I hope I _am safe, wherever--whoever I am."__

He isn't going back through the vortex. But--

_"It is night. I think it is night. It is night."_

If he doesn't, does that mean his double will get trapped there?

_"You may not know me, nor I you, but we have this mic, and this voice, and your warm ears blossoming open to hear comforting secrets in the vibrations of a voice that pulse so deep into your body, your heart relaxes for a time."_

He doesn't think he can go back to what he came from. But he knows he can't make anyone else take his place.

_"And we have this, sitting right here on this odd and bloodless desk. So now, dear listeners, whoever you are, I give you the weather."_

 

\--

 

The vortex has colors he hasn't seen in what feels like eons. When Strex tore out his eyes, he saw in shades of red, which is all he's seen ever since. Here, he sees every color he could possibly imagine, and then some. It's making it that much harder to go back.

When he sees his double running towards him, he stops for a second.

The man does look just like him. He's wearing a white T-shirt, jeans, an enormous, fluffy purple vest, and white rollerblades with rainbow lights and a palm tree on them. The skates are bloodstained, and he's trailing blood behind him.

He reaches his arms out to hug the other man, to try and reassure him that Kevin is willing to go back so he won't have to.

That's when he feels him grab at his throat. He chokes, and his first instinct is to reach for his knife but--he doesn't. His next instinct is to tear the other man's heart out but--he doesn't. He remembers his neighbor, the look on their face when he did the same to them, and accepts this as retribution for what he's done.

Better to die than to go back there, right?

That's when the other man's grip loosens and he steps back, staring at the other with wide, fearful eyes.

He coughs, looks him in the eye, and says, "Hello there, friend!"

The other man says nothing, just gazes back at him for a moment, and continues running--seriously, he's wearing rollerblades, how has he not fallen? Or why isn't he just skating?

His double was kind of weird. Kind of cute, too.

Just thinking that is a whole new level of self-love. And sin, probably.

 

\--

 

He's broadcasting when he hears Cecil's voice again.

_"Kevin. Kevin! I don't think he can hear me anymore."_

_"You don't think_ who  _can hear you anymore?"_

This is new. He thinks this is Cecil, who he spoke to--Before. He lied. Thank God he was wrong, right? Thank. God. 

New things rarely happen now. When they do, they're always--wonderful, of course; like when Strex implements new policies and the screaming doesn't stop for months.

 _"Oh, thank the lights in the sky, Kevin. You’re still there. I need to warn you about Strex."_  

His first thought is furious: It's a little late for that. You had a chance and you  _lied_ and now look where we are. His second thought is that it's good he was wrong, because now Strex is in control, and there wasn't a more efficient business model for hundreds of dimensions.

 _"Warn me? About Strex? Why would you ever need to warn me about an honest family business like Strex? Why, ever since they bought the radio station years ago, I’ve learned_ so much _about good business practices, and the value of hard work, and individual responsibility, and smiling, and destroying the weak, and eliminating the lazy, and smiling, and smiling, and…smiling."_  

He hasn't stopped smiling since that day. He doesn't think he will ever stop smiling.

_"Oh, no! Uh, I must be getting a radio signal from the much more recent past."_

Time travel, huh? It's not  _forbidden,_ per se, but Strex definitely frowns upon it. He wants to say something cheesy again, something about Cecil being a rebel, but if Strex thinks he is one--especially if he's from Night Vale--they'll kill him. And he doesn't want to start a possible new relationship with the violent death of the other party! 

Again. 

He scoffs.  _"The warping of linear time is exactly why I don’t trust radio, Cecil. Especially community radio."_  

 _"Kevin! What did you become?"_  

For a moment, he's brought back to knives tearing at his eyes, cornea first, then iris, and he could feel something dripping out of his eye other than the blood and he could feel cold steel _behind his eyes_ _\--_

_"I’m just a happy-go-lucky guy! It’s like they say: “Work hard, play hard. Then work hard again, work hard more, work harder, keep working hard, have you been working hard enough? Work harder if you want to live! And then, and then, _play! Play very very very hard.”"__

That was just a memory of himself working hard! Nothing to stress about, or have a panic attack about, or attack the first Strex employee he sees about.

_"Do you remember nothing of the you _that was? The_ you _that believed in good, healthy things like family, and a caring totalitarian government?"__

Oh, does he remember.

_"I…oh! That’s a good question! What do _I remember?"__

Actually thinking about it, though, he remembers almost nothing. Not even the moment before Before ended. The only thing he can really, truly remember from that day is Vanessa, and the heart, and the screaming.

_"I remember being a real grumpster, just a grouch and a half about everything! Mister Frowny Face, I’d call myself now, if I were talking to myself then."_

He should probably stop there. He doesn't think he will.

_"But Strex bought out my radio station, and everything changed for the better. Ha-ha! Can you believe it, I actually tried to stop them from buying it! I tried very hard. I put my own body, this fragile thing, in between the Strex representatives and the entrance to the building, but they forced their way past me using ethically brutal methods that left me forever physically changed. What a silly old hen I was about all that!"_

From the other Voice, he hears nothing but silence.

_"Once Strex entered my life and showed me the power of the Smiling God, why, nothing was the same for me ever again! I felt so much happier. I did terrible things. I felt so much happier! I tore and bit and growled…I felt so incredibly happy! My skin rent, blood drops on the ceiling, someone’s throat hose in my hand! So deliriously happy!"_

He's shaking a little bit, and he can see Vanessa through the shattered window, her eyes fixed on him. She is not smiling. The light  _beats._  

_"You know what? Thank you, Cecil, for bringing back such good memories to me!"_

_"I am so, so glad that we drove StrexCorp out of Night Vale."_  

He thinks he would have heard something about  _that._ He would have reported it! He would have been called in for backup to prevent the ones instigating revolution from ever succeeding!

 _"_ _Oh, that’s not true, Cecil! We only just_ started _moving into Night Vale. Why, I believe we bought your radio station only a couple weeks ago?"_  

_"_ _Oh, that’s because you’re talking to me from my past. Uh, the radio signal got temporally misplaced, as sometimes happens…obviously. In the time you’re speaking from, we haven’t led the secret revolution against Strex yet."_

He grabs a pen and notepad. Vanessa hasn't moved from the window. It's unsettling how the scalp in the window is the same as the one on her head. If he looks at her from the corner of his eye, he sees her with her skull exposed, and with her eyes-- 

_"So you’re saying that there will be a secret revolution against Strex? Hang on, I’m jotting down a few things."_

 Work. He should just...focus on work.

 " _Uhh…um…n–-nope! Uh, doesn’t sound right at all! Uh, I think Strex has_ nothing _to be worried about, and should just be relaxed. And complacent."_

 _"Cecil! Ha ha ha! Your jokes delight me! Just in case, though, I’m going to send a new supervisor over to Night Vale. Daniel is fresh off the line in one of our most efficient radio content manufacturers. You’ll love him. Or, not you_ now _,_ _you_ then _, I guess. Hah! Time is weird, isn’t it?"_

Kevin smiles, notes down on paper, and waits for Cecil's response. It takes a minute.

 _"_ _So weird."_

_"Right? Anyway, Daniel will keep a close eye, and if anything seems wrong, well…me and some StrexCorp executive or another will head right over to set things right."_

He doesn't  _want_ to threaten Cecil, but Vanessa's still staring at him. He can still hear the beating, and the screaming.

_"Well...um..."_

_"Oh, don’t sound down about yourself! We all make mistakes, Cecil. Except wonderfully productive StrexCorp, bursting at the seams at the power of our awesome Smiling God! They don’t make mistakes. And that is why we’re all grains of sand beneath their feet, the bended neck at their throne. Isn’t language fun?"_

He hears footsteps approaching, and turns. It's probably Lauren. Oh, Lauren. Lauren is--well, he won't say anything rude about her! They're coworkers.

 _"_ _Kevin? I already kicked you off my station once. I’m not just going to sit back while some errant radio waves from the past somehow put you right back on here. Uh, uh, maybe if I wiggle the wire_ this _way_ _…"_

_"Lauren! Lauren, I just heard some interesting ideas about the future on the--"_

 

\--

 

_"Listeners? The quiet humming is not the deer, but a swirling black vortex just outside our studio door. In fact, the deer have backed away from the station. I have seen this vortex before, listeners. And I am afraid to approach it. But Hiram went to look inside."_

Hang on, he  _knows_ that voice.

"Yeah, and I found this guy in the vortex."

_"Hello."_

He glances around, looking for the source of the Voice. He's not sure what he's expecting--maybe just the entity he'd imagined when he first heard the other person--but he doesn't see anyone who he thinks fits.

 _"Who is this man? Not man. Who...is this_ creature? __Why is he covered in blood? And where are his eyes?"__

It's his double? Even Before, he hit on his own double? That's...wow. That's certainly something. Also,  _rude._ It's not nice to mention someone's eyes, or lack thereof, didn't he know that?

_"Hi! I'm Kevin!"_

He takes a step towards his double, just to get closer, just to know if the other man feels anything like what he's feeling, but he--Cecil, wasn't it?--staggers back.

_"You stay away!"_

"Hello, Kevin. That's Cecil. Wow, you guys look...almost just alike!"

Kevin backs away from Cecil, raising his hands in a placating gesture. He knows the other man tried to kill him, but can't they work past that? He  _had_ just emerged from a fully equipped radio station without proper psychological preparation.

_"Oh! Hello, Cecil! Nice to meet you! And yes, I completely see the resemblance! It's mostly in the eyes, I think. OK, I met Hiram, and now Cecil, who are you?"_

He hopes his joke goes over well. He's a radio host, so he has a relatively good sense of humor, but this room is just so...awkward. The radio broadcasting room isn't very large, so it's a bit cramped for space what with the five-headed dragon, striking elderly lady, and set of doubles in it.

"I am the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home. Well, most homes. Not yours. I've never seen  _you_ before."

_"Faceless? You're not faceless! You have a beautiful face! A memorable face. I don't know if I've ever seen such deep hazel eyes, or proud lips, or archaic jaw."_

"I do not have a face, Kevin. I have never had a face."

Well, that's just patently untrue! Shifting his attention from his double for a moment, he says,  _"You_ do __have a face! And it's unlike any other face in history."__

_"Why are you here? Explain to me what you are doing here."_

His double looks like he's about to hyperventilate, so Kevin will forgive him for the rudely asked question. 

_"Oh. Sure."_

He'd really hoped his first meeting with Cecil would be cute, not this. This is technically their second meeting, actually. Still, he didn't imagine the first one including attempted murder.

_"Well, I was sitting in my own radio studio in my own town, and I heard that…humming again. I saw a spiraling white vortex and rushed into it. It has been months since I have seen it, and once I met a man there who looked like me! With my eyes, and my smile. I think he was you, Cecil!"_

This is his way of saying, It's okay. I get it. You did what you thought you had to do. We had a misunderstanding, that's all. He waits for Cecil's response, but the other man just stares at him. Wow, those are beautiful eyes.

_"I know that I am Kevin. I know I have been in this strange studio before, with its old-timey microphones and acoustic gray foam walls. A place like this is usually covered in clumps of hair and reddish-brown hand prints streaking down the only remaining unshattered window. But they do things differently here in…where is _this?"__

"Night Vale."

Oh, right!  _That's_ the name of the place Cecil mentioned. No wonder it sounded similar when the company announcements about a hostile takeover went out.

_"Oooooh myyy! So this is Night Vale! Oh! How delightful!"_

Cecil makes a weird facial expression. Kevin turns to him, expecting him to say something. When he doesn't, he clears his throat and begins speaking.

_"Hello out there, Night Vale listeners! This is Kevin from Desert Bluffs!"_

Cecil makes another face at the mention of Desert Bluffs. Kevin looks at him, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't.

_"You know, I was just telling my intern, Vanessa? I was telling Vanessa just today how much I have wanted to come here! I’m always telling her that, as a matter of fact. I just never get around to actually visiting. Work and family, and you get so busy it’s hard to find the time."_

He turns back to Cecil. Cecil says nothing.

_"And so…here I am! I wish Vanessa were here! She would love Night Vale! You guys have such…eh…you know!"_

He doesn't really remember what it is about Night Vale that he found so intriguing. He has trouble remembering a lot of things nowadays.

_"We always talk about coming here and here I am, without her! Oh! I wish you could have met Vanessa! Always a joke to start the day. She had one about limestone this morning, hahahahahahaha! Haaa! I don’t remember it, but it was a hit."_

Actually, he's pretty sure it wasn't a joke. He thinks it was a threat, maybe? Or a prophecy? A statement about the endlessness of Strex, carved in limestone from the beginning of time that will not erode until far past the end.

_"Always a laugh, always a smile, a big smile! Where she’d show me all these perfect teeth, and I would just imagine the rest of her perfect skull. Funny how the skull is so visible in your mouth. Weird. Who thinks of that stuff? I don’t know. Weird, right?"_

Cecil starts at this, and Kevin doesn't look at him this time. He clearly freaks Cecil out, and he doesn't want to make the guy uncomfortable, even if it is wildly disappointing.

"Maybe next time you could bring her."

_"Oh, gosh, I wish! But no."_

His smile shifts. He's not sure how he can still do that, what with most of the muscles in his face ripped to shreds, but--he does.

"No?"

_"Oh, dear, I’m sorry, no. Vanessa died many years ago. We’re all still very upset about it. Very upset about what we saw. Some of us never came back to work again. Some of us never left our houses again. Most of us never woke up again."_

He's swaying on his feet a bit now, struck by the weight of remembering all this. He's Atlas with the world on his shoulders, and Vanessa is Prometheus, a source of light with her guts ripped out for her trouble. For a second, he thinks he might break whatever hold Strex has on him, like he did when he was last here-- 

And then all he can hear is Vanessa, screaming.

_"I don't like to talk about it much."_

"I'm sorry." 

He's back. As loyal to Strex as he ever is! Which is to say,  _very_ loyal.

 _"Night Vale, I don’t know why I was brought here, but I am starting to see we are connected. And by more than just a two-lane highway. We are connected much more deeply, Night Vale! And if this is true, I imagine your town, too, has been seeing a rise in the deer population this evening. It is a blessed event, of course, as these deer have been so very helpful to all of us in Desert Bluffs, doing all our math problems, gaining us extra work hours by time-traveling us back and forth…so productive and adorable, those deer!"_  

Cecil is staring at him. He's trying his best not to look back, because the stare could be angry or terrified, and he doesn't want to see it, or it could be something  _else,_ and really, that's just gonna knock him down.

_"But, of course, there is sometimes too much of a good thing."_

He's going to say something about Strex now. Wonderful, powerful Strex. 

 _"StrexCorp,_ our _parent company – oh! And I believe yours too, now, Cecil – is issuing a recall on all these time-traveling deer. They tried to implement the project slowly, but it got a little carried away. If you have lost loved ones, or are no longer in your original timeline or universe, then we apologize. Please contact StrexCorp attorney Luisa Reyes, as she is preparing a class-action lawsuit against StrexCorp. We’ve already budgeted for the remuneration for community harms, so don’t you worry about us! We’re fine!"_  

He hopes this will calm Cecil down. It's true Cecil is possibly behind some revolutionary ideas, but he has to be starting to understand it's best to just give in to Strex, right? Submit to their endless, truly endless power. He can hear a heart beating.

 _"We’ve sent helicopters to dispatch the deer. If you have earplugs, you may want to put them in now, or simply turn up some loud music to drown out the machines and screams for the next hour or so."_  

Maybe they won't hear the screams. The machines kill the deer quickly--violently, but quickly--and the screams are in the heads of those who saw what happened to Vanessa. But that is not the only thing he can hear. 

 _"I can hear the fading hum of the vortex that fortuitously connects our two radio studios, Night Vale."_  

He turns back to Cecil, really making eye contact. The man looks...something. He looks something. Like he pities him and fears him and wishes him well, all in one. People's faces are so  _expressive_ when they're not smiling! 

_"Cecil, I will see you again. I am certain."_

He can still hear beating, and screaming. He can still see the light, a bright red behind his nonexistent eyelids.

_"I can’t wait to tell Vanessa what a great town this was! Haha!"_

He should address the other two--other six?--parties in the room, too. It's best to just be polite, after all. Especially since these are potential mayoral candidates, and anything that can help Strex get a leg up is best to seize immediately and without hesitation.

_"I must go. It was nice to meet you two!"_

He steps through the vortex and he regrets it.

 

\--

 

_"I think he brings up a good point, Cecil!"_

_"You! How did you get in here?"_  

"Hey, thanks interloper! Whoa, cool eyes!"

Well, at least  _someone's_ nice about them here. The forest was rude, Cecil called him a  _creature,_ and everyone shies away from him when he tries to establish eye contact, which he always does! It's proper business etiquette!

_"Oh, thank you! I wish I could say the same."_

Cecil looks surprised but not upset at this comment. Kevin's going to count it as a victory.

 _"Cecil, listen, it’s hard to get work done when there’s all this_ fighting! _And it’s hard to smile when there’s no working! And if we aren’t smiling, then what value do we have?"_

He can hear screaming. It's not just Vanessa. He thinks it might be his own, that he might finally remember everything that happened when they took his eyes, when they--when they...well.

_"Watch me smile!"_

Once they made it so that he was able to do this.

_"You monster!"_

He's not surprised that's Cecil's reaction. He's not going to say anything about it, though.

"That was really gross! Do it again!"

_"Look at how much better we all feel from that! But right now, no one is being productive. There are angels--"_

_"Actually, there's not."_

"No, of course not! What?"

_"There's--no. Not--nope. Not a thing."_

_Ugh,_ that is frustrating. Night Vale can be so  _dense!_ He loves the place--it's full of such productive potential!--but what with their denial of angels' existence and forbidden dog parks and arbitrary bans on various food groups, Strex really has their work cut out for them! This rebellion is just the tip of the iceberg.

_"And a desert army out there battling! For what? For Hooded Figures? For Forbidden Dog Parks? For a Glow Cloud?"_

_"ALL HAIL!"_

"ALL HAIL!"

No. No! This is not how this is supposed to happen! They are supposed to realize their mistakes, and change. Just like Desert Bluffs did.

_"For the constant terror of a Secret Police who can invade your home at any time, without so much as a letter from Human Resources?"_

_"But they are_ our _Hooded Figures. And it is_ our _Glow Cloud! ALL HAIL!"_

"ALL HAIL!"

 _"And this is_ our  _town! And it is_ terrible.  _But it is ours. And we...we are fighting for it!"_

He can feel his smile drop for the first time in years, and he looks away from Cecil, off into the distance, and thinks.

_"I used to feel that way about Desert Bluffs."_

If Cecil is the Voice, has his life been like Kevin's? Inside and outside of time? Time passing, but...not really. Time passing around them, making an exception for them whether they'd like it or not.

 _"So many secrets and conspiracies and darkness in our days. It all felt_ so  _important, so permanent!"_

He can feel himself getting more distressed as he talks, not looking at either of the two in the room with him, worried he'd see pity on their face. Pity is a weakness. It's not something he wants to see directed at  _him._

 _"But then we met the Smiling God! Oh, it was so wonderful! The sun stopped setting! Or--maybe there wasn’t a sun anymore. Maybe there was just that other…_ brighter _light. Who knows? I do know that I couldn’t stop smiling. None of us could! And our smiles seemed better, fuller,_ wider."

He smiles, and after just a few moments of disuse, the muscles in his face ache. He hopes he looks happy. He knows that he doesn't. He knows that he hasn't looked happy for longer than he can remember.

 _"Soon we had no need for government cover-ups, or secrets. Everything was transparent. Literally. You could see through everything and everyone. The bones, the blood, the scurrying insects inside every human body!"_  

He starts walking for the door, because he can hear screaming. He can see Vanessa, eyes disfigured but not  _gone,_ scalp missing, skull exposed, maggots digging through the skin of her cheeks, and she is smiling, and the light  _beats._

 _"So, let’s do this together, Cecil. Believe with me in a Smiling God! The Greater Night Vale_ and _Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area, a town with not one, but_ two _happy, helpful Voices."_  

_"Listeners, Kevin has just opened up the studio door, only–-it is not the studio door. It is an oak door, and…and light, a blinding light is pouring in, and everything is becoming translucent!"_

The light burns. The light freezes. It is beautiful and it is terrible. He stands in the doorway, arms outstretched. He is ecstatic, but he is in so much pain he can barely stand. The Smiling God keeps him propped up, like the eyeless businessman did with Vanessa. He wouldn't be surprised if it rips his heart out soon. 

_"Do you see, friends? The beautiful majesty of living as one under the unrelenting love of a Smiling God?"_

 

_\--_

 

He...blacks out, after that. 

He knows Steve threw him back into the light after he said something about Janice. He knows that Night Vale won the battle.

He knows all this because  _Carlos_ told him. 

Now, he still has a bit of a thing for Cecil, he's not going to lie, but Carlos is--Carlos is--

Well, he's _perfect_ _._

Anything negative he's ever said about a scientist, he takes it back. Anything.  _Anything._

 _"They’ve been so welcoming to us outsiders! Not_ all _outsiders, though. They are, after all, a violent and territorial army. But_ some _outsiders. People like me and like my friend Carlos. He’s a scientist. He’s a beautiful man who does beautiful things."_

He really can't hold back from incessantly complimenting Carlos. He tries to back off whenever Carlos looks uncomfortable, which is less and less often which is a  _great_ sign that he's warming up to the idea of him and Kevin being a thing. 

_"I have Carlos on the phone with us right now with some breaking news. Carlos! Tell everyone about the huge project you’ve been working on this past year."_

"Hi, Kevin! Thanks for having me on the show." 

He's so cute. He's  _so_ cute.

"So, first off, Doug and Alisha are here in my kitchen. Alisha built a refrigerator from some cactus pads, twine, and three different kinds of birds, and _now_ they’re making a bunch of pasta salad for lunch this week! They’ll save some for you if you’d like."

...yikes. He doesn't think he can eat around other people. Not with his mouth like--well. Not with his entire face disfigured and torn to shreds by knives and other implements of destruction.

_"How delightful! I’m…totally disgusted by pasta salad. Can’t stand the taste or the smell. In fact, to look at it causes me to heave. But thank you, that’s so kind!"_

"...right."

Maybe that was a bit much.

"So, this new experiment – and I have to tell you, I am _really_ excited about it. You know how our cell phones always work in this desert otherworld, even though there are no towers, and how they never seem to run out of battery?"

 _"Yes! I_ love _taking these facts for granted!"_

He's just winding Carlos up now, which is something he used to do with Cecil. Cecil. He thinks about Cecil often, lately. He misses him. He also has a huge crush on his boyfriend, which basically everyone knows about, so...he doesn't really want to see him any time soon.

"Well, I’m on the verge of uncovering what’s causing that. Here in my laboratory, which Doug and Alisha and one of the other soldiers whose name is [guttaral throat noise] built for me, I’ve been hard at work pacing about in front of a row of conical flasks, beakers, and Y-tubes, _furiously_ writing Greek letters and Arabic numbers and I _think_ , later today, I will make an enormous breakthrough."

_"What did you find out?"_

Science is  _fascinating._ He  _loves_ science. He loves  _scientists._

"I can’t say yet. I’m just waiting on my computer to finish calculating the--"

He stops speaking.

_"...everything okay?"_

He hopes everything's okay. He already has a hand on his knife, ready to unsheath it and run to Carlos should the other man make any indication that something's wrong.

"I don’t know. Alisha and Doug look really agitated. They’re jumping up and down by the window. The other giant soldiers are running into formation outside. I need to see what’s wrong."

Carlos hangs up.

_"While Carlos checks on our favorite soldiers, let’s get an update now on the roller coaster inhabitants!"_

 

\--

 

 _"Ohh! We have Carlos back on the line again! Carlos?"_  

"Doug and Alisha are gone. It turns out that the commotion was over another army marching along the horizon. Doug and Alisha ran _screaming_ around the house and through the kitchen, overturning my cutting board and grabbing their weapons. Alisha took my chef’s knife, and Doug made a makeshift slughorn out of one of my large funnels so that he could call their army to action."

Well, that's just fantastic! He's glad Doug and Alisha are so gung-ho about protecting Carlos, because it means he doesn't have to constantly interrupt his broadcast to go save him. Not that he would be unwilling to, if the need arose. 

_"Good for them, protecting our community!"_

"No, but…I–I–I was trying to explain that the other army was marching _perpendicular_ to us, they were not marching _towards_ us. This desert is filled with small armies, always marching in different directions. We–-we can’t attack them all for no reason!" 

Oh, no, did he just fuck up?

"And now my kitchen counter is broken!"

_"Oh, it’ll grow back."_

Shit, that was a rude thing to say. It might not grow back in the way he wants it to. He's going to try and put this conversation back where he knows Carlos likes it--science.

_"So? I’m so excited to learn more about your research into the strange properties of this region. I think you once called this desert otherworld “the most scientifically interesting community in the U.S.”"_

"Well…no, my exact words were–-"

Riiiiiiiiiight. That was Night Vale. He's glad Carlos is going to stay here, instead. He's still got some lingering anger towards the place due to the revolution, and due to the fact that they might have taken Carlos  _away._ But back to science.

_"So…when do you expect the results? Sounds like whatever you come up with could possibly be a monumental shift in how we perceive thermodynamic laws."_

"Well, I’m at my lab right now, hunched over my computer, waiting for it to complete its final report, then comparing its results to my thousands of hand-written notes from the past year. I believe I can pinpoint the exact source of this desert’s energy. It shouldn’t be long. Please don’t rush me."

Kevin sometimes forgets that not everyone went through Strex brainwashing, and thus, everyone does not have his perfectionistic productivity.

_"Great! Let us know soon, though!"_

Kevin hangs up.

 

\--

 

_"Sounds like Carlos is back on the line now! Did you get the results from your…"_

"Doug and Alisha are back."

He sounds...different. Not good different. Or maybe good different. How would he know?

_"Oh, good! So wonderful to have dear friends around to be a part of your brilliant achievement."_

He wishes he could be there. Wishes that Carlos valued his friendship more. No, that's unfair. He wishes that Carlos valued him as  _more_ than a friend, but he shouldn't belittle Carlos for that, even in his head.

"Yeah, but they’re in no condition to celebrate the great strides of scientific study right now. Most of the army returned from fighting, but there are more than a dozen who did not. Alisha lost two fingers, and Doug is bleeding quite badly because of a compound fracture in his forearm. Everyone who returned is in treatable condition. I believe they’ll be fine. But they’re wounded, and need lots of rest." Muffled, he continues, "And no more fighting for a long time!" And then in his normal voice, "It's a mess over here."

_"Good thing they have such a good and helpful friend in you."_

He's aware he's laying it on a bit thick here, but the man's boyfriend is moving in soon, and he's getting desperate.

_"So, tell us about your study on the strange energy here in the desert."_

"Ugh. I–-I c–-I can’t yet. The army came in so quickly, dropping their weapons everywhere, along with some detached limbs that I don’t even think _belong_ to them, and all of my journals, which I had left out and open on my desk, have been rendered unusable. There are broken beakers and blood-soaked composition notebooks everywhere. I don’t even know where to begin cleaning up all of this blood!"

Ohhhhhh, does he have some conflicting feelings about that.

"I'm sorry, did you just say something?"

_"Nnnnnnnnnno? I…just…like your story. Carry on."_

They don't need another radio broadcaster here. What they need is a therapist, because Kevin could _really_ use one.

Muffled, Carlos interrupts his thoughts by yelling, "Doug? Doug? Come back! Kevin, I have to go. Doug just constructed a makeshift splint out of rocks and snakes. He just grabbed his axe and ran out the back door."

Again, Kevin is glad that Doug is taking on the responsibility of defense, but he hopes the warrior is capable of it. He doesn't want to lose anyone else.

"Ugh. And there goes Alisha."

Why  _are_ the masked warriors always at war?

"Stop going to war! You need rest!"

Was there a reason at all?

"Call you back, Kevin. They can’t go on like this."

 

\--

 

 _"Oh! And speaking of sunshine, Carlos just arrived here, live in the studio with me! Carlos? Did you go out in this weather? You’re covered in dust, and those look like friction burns in the shape of lab goggles on your face. Are you okay? Did Doug and Alisha make it back?"_  

"Not yet. They..."

He looks distracted. Did he get hurt? If someone hurt him, Kevin is going to--

 "What is this all over your studio? Is it barbecue sauce?"

" _Oh, that? That’s just blood! And some old bones, and loose teeth, and beaks and things. I finally decorated, thanks for noticing! And_ I _just notice you have a piece of paper in your hand! That must be your final report! Look at how we both notice things about each other! I love that!"_

He's freaking out a little bit, knowing that Cecil reacted badly to the whole blood thing, and he doesn't want that to happen here, too.

"I…I, um…"

_"Well, you sound sad. Which is great news, because it means you’ll be happy again eventually! It’s a tough day, what with all the weather and the wars and the blood. But you’re boyfriend will soon be moving from Night Vale to come live here with you!"_

Carlos' face falls, and Kevin can't help but feel hopeful, and then feel bad about feeling hopeful.

"Well, um…about that…"

 _"And?_ And? _You finally have the scientific results of your hard scientific work!"_

Carlos breaks.

"I don’t. I don’t have results, Kevin! When the army marched out again I went back to trying to recover my notes. I had just gotten the lab desktops clean when Alisha’s large dog bounded through the lab and out the front door, sending every glass tube and jar crashing onto the floor. When I bent over to see the damage, I saw my computer there too, just on the tiles, snapped nearly in half, a tuft of white fur covering the keyboard, singed slightly by the smoke streaking out of the broken monitor."

Oh, no. That's awful. Kevin doesn't know how he can help fix this, if he even can.

"I lost it all, Kevin. My entire year of study is gone."

 _"What’s the paper, then? Did you at least learn_ some _of your results?"_

Carlos glances at the paper, as if he'd forgotten it was there. 

"This is nothing. It’s, um, just a letter I wrote to, uh…a friend."

 _"Oh? I_ love _letters! Letters are so fun to receive!"_

Carlos smiles sadly, and it's a real smile, not whatever horror that's the only thing Kevin is capable of.

"Mmm, not this one. It’s a sad letter. A letter about regrets, about mistakes."

...mistakes? Regrets? Who's it for? Is it for  _Cecil?_ Because...he doesn't want to wish anything bad for a friend's relationship but he's smitten with Carlos  _and_ Cecil and it's absolutely impossible to make a move on either when they're together.

"You know how sometimes you spend a lot of time with someone, and you think that the someone makes you happy, but then suddenly one day you realize…maybe you weren’t happy at all. Maybe both would be better off doing what you love in different places. Without each other. Maybe neither of you were as happy as either of you thought."

_"That is a sad-sounding letter. I don’t understand or like that at all."_

He's a liar. He's a huge liar.

"I have spent the last year all wrong."

_"I believe in you, Carlos! Don’t let destruction, blood, and war hold you back! You’re a brilliant scientist!"_

"I realize I need to just start everything over, rededicate myself. I need to do it right this time. No more distractions. I can’t spend another year like this one."

He doesn't want Carlos to regret living here. His work may have been wasted, but he met Kevin! That has to be worth something. Hopefully worth more than just  _something._

"So…it pains me to carry this letter, but…I wrote it to set my boundaries."

_"So you know, there’s no postal service here yet."_

He's about to offer to deliver it for him, so he can see Cecil, maybe even offer some words of comfort so they can bond over it or something, but Carlos cuts him off.

"I know. Um, that’s why I’m hand-delivering it."

_"Oh. Remember, no one should ever be sad. Choose not to be sad, Carlos. In fact, choose to be happy! Perhaps your letter is the first step to choosing happiness, even while it makes someone else sad."_

He may as well have said "Choose me!" That is, essentially, what he's saying. He hopes he does. He hopes to the Smiling God--or, actually, another god,  _any_ other god--that he does.

"I understand. Listen, um, I should go. I’m headed to Night Vale one final time. I need to talk to Cecil about…well, about some changes. Thanks for everything, Kevin. You’ve been so kind to me in this difficult year."

_"Goodbye, Carlos!"_

Carlos walks through the door. Kevin does not see anything poetic in this; it's not as if it's their last goodbye.

_"Well, it’s a shame that our huge scientific breakthrough didn’t quite happen today. As the old phrase goes, “the best-laid plans of mice and men are completely different kinds of plans altogether. Very different creatures, those two.”"_

He has faith that Carlos can rediscover--whatever it is he discovered, and that he can be happy, and not just that he can be happy but that he can be happy  _here,_ he can be happy with Kevin.

 _"But it’s not a total wash. Our next show should feature spine-tingling adventure stories about today’s desert battles! We have_ so much _to do, us. So much to explore and understand. So much to make here in our great desert otherworld."_

For the first time in a long time, he's excited for the future. He has hope. Real hope! Maybe it is just over a guy he likes but, whatever. After being hopeless for so long even superficial things seem...he's making mountains out of molehills. In a nice way.

 _"Say, we really do need a name for this place. Things without names don’t really exist. So I’m going to call this…well, I’m going to call it Desert Bluffs! Desert Bluffs was the name of my hometown, and by naming it Desert Bluffs, this place becomes my_ new _hometown! We are in my home! We are in Desert Bluffs, no matter where we are in space or time. What is a town but a name, right?"_

He wants to honor the place that was there Before. He misses that town. He misses the people. He misses his neighbor. He does not miss Vanessa in the sense that she is standing in the room with him, still staring at him, still not smiling, but he does miss who she used to be.

_"Until next time, New Desert--oh. It looks like Carlos left behind that letter he was supposed to hand deliver. I’d better not read it."_

He'll run and give it to Carlos in a minute. But he could...you know, just check and make sure--?

_"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnno. Better not."_

Carlos did say he wanted to hand-deliver it, after all.

 _"Until next time, New Desert Bluffs. Until next time."_  

He's about to shut off the broadcast and open the door when he sees that the name written on the outside of the envelope says Kevin. Not Cecil. He opens it.

_"Oh. Oh no! This is so sad!"_

He...he was wrong. Of course Carlos isn't choosing him. Why would he? Cecil's great! Even  _he_ likes Cecil! And Kevin- 

_"No. I don’t like this. I am sad."_

Kevin is hopeless. Again. What can the future even hold for him?

 

\--

 

Kevin coughs.

_"Oh, no. Hello?"_

_"Cecil! Cecil, old friend! I’m here."_

He knew, on some level, this would happen. That at the end, he would talk to his double, his foil, his...whatever the hell else Cecil is to him. Was to him?

_"You sound different. When is this radio signal coming from? Uh, when are you in your life?"_

Time bends for Cecil in ways it never has for Kevin. Now, in ways it never will.

 _"I am very old. It has been many years since I last spoke to you. It’s great to hear your voice again. It’s great to hear_ any _voice again."_

_"I’ll admit, this is a little exciting. How is the future?"_

Once, Kevin asked Cecil a question about the future. Cecil lied. To protect him or to make him happy or just because he didn't want to break time--Kevin doesn't know. He knows that he hated Cecil for it, if only briefly. He knows that he won't make the same mistake.

_"Desolate."_

_"Okay, not what I expected, if I’m honest."_

He's sure Cecil wants an explanation. He knows he would. He knows that he  _does._ Cecil deserves one, after all. What lies in his future--he should warn him. Try and prevent all of that. Try and prevent  _this._

_"Oh, what StrexCorp and their Smiling God did to my wonderful little town. What they did to me. I’m not myself anymore. I’m a smile, and a twitch of the wrist. It has been years, Cecil. I’ve drifted away from myself. Sometimes I am one me, and then again I am the other. What they did to the sentient heat trapped temporarily in my body."_

_"Oh, Kevin."_

For the first time in a long time, all he hears is sympathy and pity. Once, he thought that pity was one of the worst things someone could look at him with. Now it's the only thing where he knows what to expect.

_"“Kevin.” Even my name is a strange figment. My tongue has forgotten how to form the word. And once, I was so good with words!"_

He is not smiling. He will never smile again, no matter what they do to him.

_"Now I am an ancient thing, withered away by what they did to me all those years ago. The power of the Smiling God is an endless flow. It ebbs, like the tides. But, like the tides, it returns."_

His face aches. His face has always ached. He can hear the beating of Vanessa's heart. It's slower, now.

_"I think about what I could have been if I had never encountered Strex. I imagine an entire life without them. It makes me happy. I picture every detail, I try to live it in real time, but it is only a slight, sweet fiction, and dissolves like sugar into water."_

That life includes Carlos, yes, but it includes Cecil, too. He cares so much about both of them and--is that all going to fade away, After? What's going to happen? He doesn't know. He doesn't really want to.

"Oh, Cecil! I wish you had known me before…before Strex. Before it all, when I was just a dedicated community radio host like you. I wish you had–-"

He's cut off by static.

Well. That's it, then.

There is so much more he wants to say, so much more he should have said. He just--he--

He wishes there was something that could be done

and he wishes that he was someone else entirely who would never have had to deal with this

and he wishes that Strex never existed

and he wishes that he could have warned Cecil

and he wishes it wasn't the end

and

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaaaand that's the end.
> 
> happy birthday sydney! i hope you liked it! i know i got you into night vale, and then the ot3, and then the fic i'm obsessed with with the ot3, and now you cosplay it, so i thought that in honor of your birthday, i would commemorate just one of the many obsessions i have gotten you into/plan to get you into.
> 
> plus, i'd already written two stanchez fics.
> 
> i love you, my weird tiny birb friend who is a literal angel and actual goddess. to another year of night vale, cartoons, and weird aesthetic!
> 
> (sorry it's sad but in canon their tale is one of tragedy)
> 
> thanks to shitcecilpalmerwouldwear, my fashion inspiration and also the base for almost all the clothes mentioned in this fic


End file.
